Ordnance
by tyrsownRue
Summary: AU Something told him this wasn't quite right. Since when had insanity been a prerequisite for a soldier? [LC SeC RS]
1. Chapter One: ERYX

**Ordnance**

**Chapter One: ERYX**

"Look Kid, I'm not about to let a liability join my team."

"I'm not a kid." The blond said defiantly, his eyes never leaving the pacing man's form. He knew he was small for twenty one; he knew that he probably looked no older than fourteen at most, but dammit, he wasn't a kid. There was no way this man was more than a few years older, either.

"But you _are_ a liability." Statement of fact.

"I won't be." He tried not to clench his fists any tighter. If his nails drew blood now they would only scab over and cause problems later. He had to be able to prove himself. He couldn't afford distraction.

"We'll see about that." The scarred brunet gave him a once over, eying him as though he might crack under too much scrutiny – attack the soldiers…again. "It's a wonder you weren't – that they still accepted you after that display."

That display.

He almost cringed. The man meant yesterday when he had blanked out and forgot where he was. No one had been able to reason with him – he nearly killed five men. It had taken the base nurse to calm him down.

With a flower, no less.

He could only imagine the impression he had left amongst the regular troops, and had no doubt that he had made quite a few enemies in that short span of insanity.

But the base commander had seen something in him, apparently, and he had been allowed to enlist – only to be placed under the command of this stone-faced man of ice who didn't seem too pleased with the idea himself.

"You pull a stunt like that again without orders and I'll see to it that you're put down for good. I won't have you endangering the lives of my operatives because you have some issues you can't deal with. _Do you understand that_?"

He had no doubt in his mind that at this point the other man could snap him in half, regardless of his deceivingly lean stature. He would train though, and he would become stronger than that bastard. He would become stronger enough to defeat anyone who had ever looked down on him, ever made fun of him…a match for even the great General himself. But…under orders?

Was there a point when he'd be given orders to brutally attack members of his own squad?

…would he do it?

"Yes, Sir."

"Where the Hell did you even find a nail bat on this Base." The dark haired man muttered to himself as he ran a hand tiredly down his face, over the scar at the bridge of his nose, sliding to rest at the base of his neck. It was the gesture of the tired; of the exasperated. Of the over-worked.

He chose to remain silent, as much because the statement wasn't directed at him as because he didn't know the answer himself. One of those beneficial offshoots of momentary insanity.

"Lockhart will show you to your barracks for now." The man turned his back, casting the blond one last look. "We'll go over procedure later. We operate a little differently than the army here, our squad in particular; you may have some adjusting to do."

…

Sora's gaze was distant as he lolled his head back against the plaster, hand drifting and gliding against the perfectly maintained walls.

The room was white. Sickeningly pristine white, and almost blindingly so.

He hated this room. But Kairi loved it.

Well, not Kairi, Namine. Namine loved the white room. The box like room. She liked to paint here, splashing colours across the papers they indulged Kairi and filling the space with her imagination and dreams. But the papers never stayed here. They took them. They took them beyond the white room and into the world the room's inhabitant saw only rarely, and only then to splatter the world with red. Never blue or yellow; only red.

There was that one time the target had spilled his coffee, leaving a brown stain across the room's wallpaper dripping, dripping. Splash. Surprise!

He giggled softly to himself. That had been a fun day. Roxas had like that.

There was a hand on his shoulder now, and silver hair tickling his nose. He batted idly at it, still snickering. The hair's owner caught his hand, tugging it gently in a silent request for his attention. He was different, that one. He didn't have someone living inside of him. Not anymore.

He killed him.

He was evil.

Not like Roxas. Roxas wasn't evil. Vengeful and depressing sometimes, but not evil. He couldn't imagine what it was like to kill a part of you and still want to live. But that's what made Riku strong. Stronger than him, at least.

They had told them, the men in the lab coats, that they were special. Gifted. Sora didn't_ feel_ special.

He liked the games they let him play. Most often it was Seek and Destroy. Riku liked those games too. Kairi didn't. She liked the staged games better, though she said Namine enjoyed cleaning up after them. Positioning the targets; arranging the aftermath into a tableau.

None of them liked the scientists.

They came with their chemicals and their needles and their machines and their false smiles. They came with silky words that no one could really believe, and they came with the evil man.

_He_ had greasy black hair and round glasses that always slid off his too narrow face and hooked nose._ He_ was the man who smelt like the chemicals they injected and faintly of something else, something darker. Sora didn't like that smell. _He_ was the harbinger of nightmares and feverish delusions.

The girls he sometimes brought with him were somewhat nicer. The taller one, with long brown hair trussed up in a tail of sorts – a tail on the back of her head! – she always looked sad, and was gentler than the dark man. The shorter one, she smelt faintly of engine grease and the cars they sometimes rode in on their way to paint the world red. Namine whispered that she was doing the man with the foul mouth and temper. Namine liked knowing these things. She and Kairi liked watching when Riku came to him.

Roxas liked her best because she wasn't really a scientist. How Roxas knew that without Sora knowing was beyond him. He was sure that Riku would have an explanation for that. He had an explanation for everything.

Sora liked it when Roxas spoke to him though, even if the boy didn't like talking to Riku much. Riku and Roxas didn't get along very well. Roxas didn't really get along well with anyone. He had to be careful.

He rolled sideways, landing on a rather unsurprised Riku, giving the boy's shoulder a pat or two. And another, just because it felt nice.

"I want to get out." He mumbled against his chest in lazy drawl. "Namine's bugging me."

"Kairi's asleep, Sora." The silver-haired boy responded dully, hands clasped behind his head.

"Not Kairi," the brunet poked at a hole in the other's shirt, his fingers prying at it, watching in fascination as it grew, "Namine. She says she's going to draw me again. Why is she always drawing me?"

"Maybe she likes you." Riku yawned, rolling over to face the wall despite Sora's heavy weight on his chest. The brunet wriggled and readjusted, sprawled over the older boy's side, his nose touching the cool plaster.

Riku couldn't hear Namine. He had never been able to. Roxas he could, when Sora let him talk. And back when he had that evil man inside him…that was probably why Roxas didn't like him, even now. That man had hated Kairi too, but Sora couldn't understand that. How could anyone not like Kairi? She was a princess!

"Can we leave now? Roxas is bored." He began scratching rhythmically against the wall only inches from his nose. Scratch scritch scritch scratch scratch schritchity. White powder? He sneezed.

Riku called him a prince sometimes. He liked those moments. He could still remember having a crown once – a silver one on a chain…but how could you wear a crown if it was on a chain? The memory confused him.

Riku shifted beneath him in protest. "We have to wait until they explain the game. We can't play without toys."

Well that was only half truth. They could play without toys. Kairi was especially good at that. But Sora knew that the door was locked, and he really didn't have the energy to open it at the moment. He never had the energy it seemed, but for some reason he never seemed to care.

Apathy.

That's what Riku called it. He knew it was something to do with the chemicals they kept bringing in their white coats and glass tubes and needles, and he knew somewhere in that apathetic mind of his that he had a reasonably good idea what they were, and what they were doing to his system. But that was another affect, wasn't it. It dampened his ability to think, to react. It wasn't until they were let out that they were allowed to function again.

Riku had said it was because they were dangerous. He thought that it was because they won too many of the games.

Sora had said that they didn't have to win the games then. He had tried to lose. Riku had yelled at him then. Riku yelling was terrifying, and he seemed to grow and look more like that man that he had killed, the evil one that had tried to hurt them all. He didn't like that Riku. He had never tried to lose since.

"Open the door, Riku." He whined, rolling over onto his back, his sharp hips digging into the soft flesh of the other boy's side.

"Why should I?" Apathy. There it was again! Why was it always there? That simply would not do. Well, maybe a little. Doing nothing was nice. Wait, there was a reason he wanted out of this godforsaken room of blinding white and lack of windows and attempting to be unconscious Riku and Kairi.

He wanted to see what the greasy man would do. Wanted to see with a morbid curiosity that arose from a boy who had long forgotten what it meant to live without the meddling of those who viewed him as both a pet and an experiment; a monster and a tool.

"I wanna visit Matron. She likes it when we visit."

"We've never visited Matron."

Sora dug his fingers into the silver mess of Riku's head, absently tugging handfuls as he thought. There was a muffled sound of obligatory protest. "She might like it."

She seemed like a nice lady. Leon had said that she liked orphans…and they were kind of like orphans…he thought. At least, as soon as he remembered what an orphan was, he was pretty sure he qualified. He hoped he did.

His awkwardly painful cushion log began to move in jerky protesting movements, and it took the brunet a moment to realize that this was due to the fact that said cushion log was in fact Riku, and that motion generally meant he was still alive.

It also seemed to mean that he was going to open the door. It was nice when things worked out. To commemorate he began to hum a jaunty little tune he'd heard once and away. It sounded an awful lot like the funeral march, but then, he hadn't heard that many songs in his life.

"I don't see why I'm the one doing this. You're better at this type of thing than me." The teen grumbled as he deposited himself under the lock.

That was a lie. Sora was grinning like a maniac now that freedom was in sight. They both knew that Sora was best at making things that moved still. And often in more pieces than when it began. Riku was good at that too.

They made one thing two; Kairi made two things one. Or three – but they had told her that from now on her use of ribbons and glitter would be limited to special occasions. She hadn't liked that much.

"Door's open." There was a harsh click in the white, white room, and the almost unperceivable shuffle of cloth. _You're in trouble!_

"What're you doing?"

Sora flinched at the hand clamped down on his shoulder. Small hand. Girl's hand.

Kairi.

"You woke up."

"I woke up."

"She woke up." Riku supplied helpfully.

"Kairi woke up." Sora's grin grew as he nodded; Roxas was right.

"I restate, what're you doing?"

Oh. OH! Sora gestured to the open door and the girl nodded encouragingly.

"We're going out."

…

He didn't like this.

He had only been there a few hours, and already he knew that he was in far deeper than the army had ever been. Whatever this was would be far more…involving than drill sergeants and cardboard cafeterias. Here there was no risk of court marshalling. Here there was only one way out, and he was quite certain it would happen with his back turned. He didn't trust the man in red at all.

So he had tried to be a soldier. It was obvious he had failed that. They didn't take crazies in the army.

They took them here, it seemed.

It would explain why he was now in a barracks rooming with new team mates who where all afflicted with some abnormality, be it obsessed with trains, thought they were vampires, questionable transvestites, kleptomaniacs…he wasn't sure what was wrong with their squad captain yet, but it was certain that there was something. It looked like you couldn't be assigned this job unless you'd proven yourself psychotic. But he was assured that they were all apparently the best in their field regardless, which led him to be more than a little worried. If he had actually killed those men, he wondered where _that_ would place him.

"What did you say your name was?" The one he could swear was a man, if it weren't for the pretty face and the glaringly obvious bust. Aggressive.

"Strife. Cloud Strife, Sir."

"I think I know you." She was obsessively tugging at her long dark hair as though trying to remember something buried deep.

"I really don't think so," He did his best to ignore her as he sat down on his bunk, "Sir."

It was hard. Well, harder than he had expected. He wasn't sure what it was that made him think that the bunks here would be any softer than the ones at the base, but there was still that niggling surprise. Maybe that the government took better care of those that were mentally disturbed. But then again, what government trained them as assassins.

He eyed the pillow despondently. It looked more like a pillowcase than an actual pillow. He bet Leonhart had better accommodations; down duvet and high-count linens. Probably had three civilian issue pillows too. That bastard.

"Not Sir. Tifa." She let it go, obviously not caring enough to press the issue. "Here you'll only find two people ranked higher than you: Matron and the General. Leon too, for a bit at least. He's kinda the unofficial leader while the General's busy. Gets the officer's quarters at the end too."

The General…but –

"General Sephiroth?" He narrowed his eyes, his fist clenching in the overly starched sheets, "I thought he was dead."

She gave him the look that he had grown accustomed to over the years; the one that he found ridiculously funny to come now from her. She thought he was crazy.

"He's been working here for over five years now. Even the army knew that much."

He flinched and cast his eyes to where his sheets had torn. Huh. Clearly they didn't make sheets like they used to. Or it could have been the inhuman strength that had been the by-product of those experiments he would rather forget. He thought he'd go with the first answer.

"Hey…" The deceivingly female team mate was watching him closely now, hands fisted at her waist. "Let's get out of here; get a drink or something."

"What for?" There was a hole. A hole in his sheets. For some reason that thought refused to leave him, and at the same time made him horribly sad.

"To celebrate. You're one of us now." She grinned down at him, offering a hand he had seen her punch through a wall not even an hour ago.

One of us! One of us! One of us! His mind chanted gleefully as he stood, ignoring her hand carefully. Who was she joking?

"Do they have better swill here than the last place?" He had to glance back at her when she didn't respond, hesitating as he saw her maniacal grin. "What?"

"I think you just attempted a joke. Failed, but now we deserve two." She quickly linked their arms and began pulling him along.

"You're buying." He muttered.


	2. Chapter Two: Entrance

**Chapter Two: Entrance**

It wasn't long after exiting what Lockhart affectionately called the Chateau Latrine, that they encountered what Cloud would not-so-affectionately call Problems One, Two, and Three and a Half.

Oh, they didn't all come at once. First it was Three and a Half, grinning with what looked like a torn training manual brightly splayed with colours held before her and wearing a white and pink nightgown. With glowing eyes she darted in front of them, holding the pages under the blonde's nose.

Tifa's hand clenched on his arm in a vice-like grip, jerking him to a halt in the middle of the Parade grounds.

"I had a dream about you." Problem Three and a Half said in earnest, jiggling the paper for his attention.

It was then that he was able to focus on it enough to see that the colours were in fact a drawing; poorly drawn, but admittedly far better than his own meagre stick figures. It had bristling and garishly yellow hair, blue orb-like eyes and a long reddish brown cape dripping down his shoulders in what he hoped wasn't blood.

That was kind of creepy.

The fingers on his arm dug tighter when he didn't respond, but the young girl before him seemed to think his silence meant she could continue.

"Namine liked you. She thinks that you would be good for Leon, so she is willing to concede him into your care." She grinned broadly, flipping the page and shoving it in his face.

He blinked a few times, leaning back only to wish he hadn't. Seeing your person in various states of undress in crudely drawn depictions under – under! – that which could only be your shaggy headed officer… he felt a headache coming on.

Tifa wasn't helping by leaning forward to tentatively pat her on the head. "Yours and Namine's drawings are beautiful, darling. I'm sure the team would love to see them."

As Cloud saw it, he had two responses he could give this beaming child:

_Why yes dear, that is absolutely adorable. I certainly see myself sprawled prostrate under that gorgeous domineering man myself._

Or

_What the fuck is this._

Really, there was only one acceptable choice.

"What the fuck is this?" He snatched the papers from her crumpling them in incredulity.

There was a moment of shocked silence before Tifa grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged him fiercely to meet her eyes. "I cannot believe you just said that Strife, are you bat-shit insane? Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

"Who the hell draws pictures of people they've never met in ridiculously compromising positions?" he shouted back, pointing accusingly at Problem Three and a Half. "It needed to be said!"

He cast a glare at the girl, hesitating when he saw her lip quivering. Oh God, was she crying? Suddenly in all its pride shattering, humiliating glory, the first option seemed like the better response.

"Oh God." Tifa looked panicked as she fell to a knee before the girl, the hands that could break through concrete placed delicately on her shoulders. "Don't cry. Please don't cry. He didn't mean it; he's just an insensitive jerk. Really. Kairi, you're a wonderful artist. So is Namine. Don't cry."

"_Kairi!"_

Tifa yelped at the shout, quickly springing to her feet and putting distance between herself and the girl - and from Cloud - looking far more frightened than he felt comfortable with. "Damn it, I knew he'd be close. One more."

It was that point that Problem Number One decided to make an appearance.

It came in the form of a boy with a head of tussled brown spikes and what looked like a set of grey medical scrubs looking very angry, and more than a little vengeful.

"You made her cry!" said his little would-be accuser, levelling a finger at him from across the Parade grounds.

"You've got to be joking." His hand hit his face with a groan, casting his eyes skyward. "What the hell did I do?"

"This is very bad, Strife." The dark-haired woman hissed. "Just…stay still."

She raised her hands disarmingly, taking a few steps forward with a small smile. "Sora, darling, he didn't mean to…is Riku with you?"

The boy eyed her carefully, making sure to keep both the blond and the sniffling Kairi in his sight as she moved. "He made her cry."

"…I know, I know…He's sorry. Very sorry. How did you get out here?"

Cloud noticed that she was keeping a precarious distance from the youth, almost as though she was afraid to just…run in and shake him. That's certainly what he would have done.

"He can speak for himself, Tifa!" The boy's hands clenched as he glared metaphorical claymores at Cloud's vital organs. At least Tifa fell silent.

He heard her mutter something that sounded an awful lot like "Oh God, don't say anything stupid."

"Look kid, Lockhart's right, I didn't mean to upset your little girlfriend."

Apparently that was stupid, because Sora let out a snarl and launched himself at Cloud. He had to wonder what the boy's plan was; tear him apart with his claws? He didn't get much chance for thought though, falling back to react on instinct. The boy was faster than he had thought possible.

It was only the heightened reflexes from both parties that made them each spring back at the sound of a gunshot, a faintly smoking hole where the blond had been just moments before. Heads swivelled to look at the sniper, and in entered Problem Number Two.

It was a young silver-haired man smirking as he levelled his toy at the shocked ex-soldier.

"Get away from Sora. Next time I won't miss."

"Since when did the General spawn?" He muttered to himself. As Sora began to circle, Cloud was having a hard time keeping both the gunner and him in view.

"Riku, stop this now!" Tifa shouted sternly, refusing to flinch when the barrel spun to face her, the young man's eyes never leaving Cloud.

"Or what?"

"We have a mission soon; we need Strife!" She pointed at him. "You're supposed to be the sensible one! You don't attack team mates!"

"Team mate?" Came the echoed reply of five voices.

Suddenly the tension seemed to plummet at a ridiculous speed, and reaffirmed yet again Cloud's belief that everyone in this place was insane.

"Leon!"

Kairi scrubbed her face quickly, racing over to fling herself at the new arrival, and Sora it seemed wanted very much to do the same. He settled for casting Cloud a final glare before sauntering casually over to the man, breaking into a grin and latching onto his waist. Riku merely lowered his gun and offered a casual salute. The scarred man ruffled Sora's hair as he lowered Kairi to the ground.

"What kind of trouble have you been getting yourselves into now?" He raised a questioning look to the dark-haired woman who held up her hand and silently signed a quick message. With that, he glanced at Cloud. "Strife. It…looks like you've been introduced to the final three members of our squad ahead of schedule. I advise you watch your manners and your words with more caution than usual."

"Sir." Cloud saluted.

"Don't call him Sir." Kairi made a face. "Too young to be a Sir."

Leon looked like he wanted to correct her, but he remained silent, patting her on the head. Cloud knew that snickering at this point would not be the best option.

"You had better take good care of Leon, Strife." Sora marched across to him, leaning far into what he had defined many years ago as his 'personal space'. "If I hear _one thing_ about you –"

"Riku!" Leon barked at the silver-headed youth, interrupting what Cloud was quite certain would be a very nasty threat from the brunet. "I want you three to report to the General. Now."

"But Leon – "

"That's an order, Riku." He gave Kairi one last pat, bending down to give her a brief smile. "Keep the boys in check, Princess. I don't want to hear about any more fights breaking out, or there'll be trouble. You too, Namine."

"I drew a picture for you." She smiled, pointing to where Cloud stood. "He ruined it, but I can draw you more. Don't blame Roxas."

"I look forward to them. Now off you go." He straightened, watching as the three moved away as one. "Don't be a hassle to the General."

When they were clear of hearing distance, Tifa let out a sigh. "Gods, I'm glad you came by. I don't know how they got out this time."

"…one of the orderlies noticed their door was open. She thinks someone must have forgotten to lock it, but I'm sure there was more to it than that. Neither of those boys needs a key to get through a lock, when they set their minds to it… even one as complex as theirs." He ran a gloved hand through his hair tiredly, "Strife, hand over those pictures. Kairi will like to see them displayed."

"With all due respect, Sir –" Cloud began, the papers still clenched tightly in his fist.

"Leon."

"With all due respect, _Leon, _I can't do that."

"Look, I don't care what you _can_ do. You _will_ hand them over." He nodded to Tifa, taking a step forward.

In his momentary confusion of whether it was permissible to defend oneself against a higher ranking officer and the omnipresent knowledge of humiliation, Tifa had him pinned against her, the crumpled papers floating from his limp hand. He swore he heard part of his spine crack.

Leon's face was as unreadable as stone as he flattened them out, folding them carefully and tucking them away. "Where are you two headed at this hour?"

He could feel Tifa grin against his ear, trying not to flinch as she spoke. "Taking Spiky here for a drink to celebrate his redeployment on our team."

It was amazing how this woman could spring back to her enthusiasm, he thought blandly, attempting to adjust in her hold to breath.

"I want you both capable for training tomorrow at dawn. Whatever else you do is your own business."

"You mean the barrack's business. Not much you can do there without getting noticed." Tifa winked.

"Whatever." He crossed his arms. "No complaints in the morning."

"And keep your sounds to a minimum in the barracks." He added as an afterthought. "Some of us like our sleep."

Tifa grinned, pulling the blond away as she waved complacently.

"Tifa," Cloud muttered as they gained distance from the scowling man, "you saw those pictures. Why did you let him take them?"

For some reason she seemed surprised by the question, as though the answer was ridiculously simple. "Because Kairi drew them."

She ushered him through the rough wooden door of a small building. It led to a narrow, dimly lit room crowded with assorted chairs, a counter and copious amounts of bottles containing what he could only hope was liquor. If he ever needed a drink, it was now.

"And that's a good reason because?" He let himself fall back into a tall wooden chair with mismatched arms at the counter. He blinked as a large bottle of brownish liquid was slammed down in front of him. Well, she certainly was a _forceful_ woman.

"It's a damn fine reason because if that girl doesn't see her images on display, Leonhart will lose some of his credibility with those three, and if he ever does _that_ you can be sure that next time you make a fool of yourself and insult any of them, you will not be walking away in one piece." There was the harsh clink of two glasses hitting the counter. "Oh, and on your ability to deal with girls? Good job, Captain Jackass. Ice?"

He nodded, twirling the empty glass distractedly as he thought. "What, are they some sort of mascot for the squad?"

"You've got a lot to learn." She laughed as the ice dropped into his cup, unscrewing the bottle. It sported a leaping frog, half faded and peeling on the label.

"Maiden's Kiss?" Cloud eyed it sceptically. It had been a very long time indeed since he had last indulged in liquor of any kind, much less obscure expensive breeds. Over five years, at least.

"You'll like it, trust me. But look, those kids are beyond anything you could imagine. When they came here, they were ridiculously intelligent – could figure out any problem, equation or puzzle we could throw at them. After the tampering? Well. That one boy, Sora – I've seen him take out a hundred armoured men in under ten minutes. I'm not even sure he had a real weapon on him at the time."

The liquid was amber as it poured, barely disturbing his small mountain of ice.

Tifa poured hers straight.

"I hate to break it to you, but I doubt this'll turn me into a prince." There was an experimental sniff and a swirl of the glass.

"No, but it might cure you from being such a frog."

He snorted. "So what's the trigger?"

"Mostly they're on orders, but on their own accord?" She shrugged. "You insult Kairi, the two boys will kill you. You insult or threaten Sora, Riku will kill you. Riku, and…well, Riku would kill you."

"Got it. Get Kairi alone." Cloud smirked into his glass.

"Trust me, unless you want to end up as the by-product of taxidermy and dress-up, that's a very bad idea." She downed her glass in one go.

"…I have a feeling I don't want to know. How is it that Leon is able to order them around like that?"

Tifa was quiet for a moment, her hand tapping silently on the counter. "No one really knows, not even him. He and the General are the only ones that really have any control over them. And Matron. But…those two issue commands. Leon…he's special, I guess."

He decided to let the matter drop for now, on all accounts still far more concerned with the reacquisition of art than the psychotic dealings of three teenage brain children. "And this is?"

"Welcome to 7th Heaven." She grinned, gesturing proudly to what Cloud would have more readily called a storage shed than a heaven. "We made it ourselves – our squad only. It may not look like much, but it's got better selection than any of the regular places on base, and a far better atmosphere."

Cloud smirked, downing the rest of his drink before holding it out for more.

When they returned to the barracks that night, he found it ridiculous how difficult it was to cross the parade grounds considering they only needed to travel in a straight line. With the dark-haired woman leaning heavily on his right, and the buildings swaying in the distance, it took far longer than he had expected.

She seemed to be functioning fine though when they entered their sleeping quarters, he thought dryly.

He paused in front of his bed, glancing up at the standard issue metal lockers looming overhead. Was that…crayon? He groaned. Large splaying letters of assorted colour proclaimed "Cloudster the 5th" followed by a poorly drawn replica of his file photo covered in hearts.

Whoever the artist (or artists) was, however, it was clear that they either weren't trying to be secretive, or had forgotten that they signed their names. Selphie, Yuffie, Yuna.

He half expected Yunnie.

Cloud sighed in defeat, crawling under his holed sheets and curling in a ball. Whatever this was, he had a feeling he would need more than one day to adjust.

Or more liquor.


	3. Chapter Three: Engine

**Chapter Three: Engine**

The morning dawned far sooner than he would have liked.

Rolling out of his cot at Leon's barking command, he felt more than heard the sharp cracking under his foot accompanied by a sad, almost mournful whistle of the dying. He did his best not to cry out as metal and plastic dug into his bare foot, but someone beat him to it.

"_My train!" _Came the high-pitched shriek from the next bed over. A young woman in a yellow nightdress shoved him back as she fell to the floor, frantically pulling together the shattered pieces of what may have once been an antique locomotive.

He rubbed his head ruefully from where it had rebounded against the wall. His blood was dripping. Small crimson rivulets running down his ankle and onto the floor. But she was crying over her train. A train. He let his head fall back against the plaster.

Cloud took a deep breath. Swallowed his pride. "I'm sorry for stepping on your train."

"You owe me a new one." She replied, scrubbing her cheeks. "This one was a present."

He nodded eyes still closed as he stilled his patience, somehow not quite surprised that it had been that simple. The others in the room were still moving about as though nothing had happened.

"Selphie, move out." The brunette yelped, clutching her broken toy to her chest as she scurried back to her cot to quickly finish dressing. Leon knelt beside the blonde's bunk prodding his foot with a clipboard. "Always look before you step."

"Sorry, Sir." He gritted out reluctantly. How was he to know that the floor would be a labyrinth of train tracks when he woke up? This was a military base, or at least he thought it was. Since when had protocol allowed that?

The scarred man grunted softly. "…Leon."

Cloud just gave him a blank stare.

And hissed when the other man grabbed his foot, twisting it to get a better view of the damage. One of the shards that had lodged itself in his flesh was pulled clear.

"You won't be very effective training this morning. Report to the infirmary to get this looked at, and then the General would like to have a word with you." Succinct and terse; this man had a wonderful beside manner, Cloud thought dryly. "Can you make it there yourself, or should I call Yuffie to escort you?"

He waved off the question, pushing off from the cot and grabbing his boot. Was that a model bank near his bedpost? He caught sight of small plastic legs tied to the tracks as they disappeared under the cot and wondered momentarily where the rest of the body was.

The man stood silently watching him.

"What." He snapped as he rustled through his new lockers for his shirt. "Trying to decide if I can be trusted on my own?"

"…Your file is surprisingly empty." Leon crossed his arms, leaning against the bedpost, "Any idea why that might be?"

Empty. Cloud had known it was only a matter of time before the other man had caught on to the fact that his history stopped exactly five years ago. No hometown. No relatives. No medical reports. Nothing. One of the reasons he couldn't be a real soldier. "No."

Everyone had their secrets.

Leon watched him a moment longer before silently disappearing from the barracks, presumably to oversee the rest of the training while Cloud found his own medical attention.

…

Remembering his way back to the sickbay was easier than he had hoped, especially after he had found what he assumed was an old curtain rod shoved under Valentine's bunk. What it had been doing there in the first place, he would probably never know, but it was remarkably helpful in keeping his weight off his injured limb, and it only bent slightly under his weight. He'd also found the body of the errant limbs there.

He wasn't at all surprised to find the same green-eyed nurse on duty as on his first day. The abundance of greenery in the room threw him off a bit though. He couldn't remember ever being in a hospital that more closely resembled a forest.

And those beautiful green eyes were staring at him curiously, if not a little worried, taking in the one boot dangling from his lax hand and the red stained foot twitching nervously just above her clean floors. She looked like she was torn between grabbing a mop or an officer.

"It's…alright." He tried to smile disarmingly, but failed considering he had never needed to use that expression before. It probably came out as more of a grimace when his foot grazed the ground. "Leon sent me here."

She frowned, quickly ducking under his arm and helping him to one of the white cots. "He sent you here alone? Like this? That man is insufferable."

"I think I might have stepped on something."

"An astute observation. We'll have you cleaned up and out of here soon. You're not due for a physical just yet." He had the sneaking suspicion she was trying to make a joke.

Cloud watched her long braid sway against her white coat as she rummaged about for supplies amongst the flower pots. There was the soft clinking of metal as her hands moved.

"He went off to train first, didn't he." She grabbed his foot angrily, eliciting a muted grunt from the blond. "Careful now, this will sting."

He clenched the sheets beneath him as she began prying the shards free with a pair of tweezers.

She held up what looked like a miniature cow catcher, examining it carefully. "Early steam engine; Eastern continent. I'm guessing Selphie had a hand in this."

"Short, brown hair, yellow dress?" He wriggled his toes experimentally, glancing up as her hand clamped down on his foot.

"Hold still, you might aggravate it yet. Will you…be alright if I disinfect it?"

She looked worried. Cloud couldn't say he blamed her. "I'll be fine. It…doesn't happen all that often."

She nodded firmly as though that was enough to trust him, and a damp cloth was pressed firmly against the torn flesh. Considering, he had expected it to hurt more than it did. Ah well, small blessings.

She must be used to dealing with neurotic patients.

"Is he having you back out on the field after this? If I bind it tightly enough, you should be alright."

"Have to report to the General before that." He tried to be useful while she began wrapping his foot, holding it at a better angle.

The hands paused in their work briefly before tying off the bandage. It was apparent then that she was studiously ignoring him as he carefully watched her face for a reaction. "…you should be fine now. It really wasn't as bad as it looked."

With the exception of Tifa last night, it had been a very long time since he had last dealt with women. Even so, it was quite clear to him that there was something that wasn't being said in their exchange, and even though he knew he had no authority to force a response, he couldn't help but be irritated.

"What is going on? Why is Sephiroth here? He was supposed to be _dead_." His fist collided with the wall, but the girl didn't seem very startled. If anything, it seemed like she had half expected an outburst.

"I don't know the answers to your questions." She was clearing away the mess, handing him his boot as she went. "I'm just a nurse."

That 'just a nurse' had the curtain rod crutch pressed firmly against his jugular when he sprang to his feet. He'd barely seen her move.

"I wasn't going to do anything." He said carefully, his eyes not leaving hers. "What kind of a nurse has a reaction speed like that?"

"One that works for this unit." She replied evenly before looking thoughtful. "…be careful. You may have some basic training physically, but that won't help you much against the General."

"What do you mean by that?"

She lowered the rod, waving off his question airily, the bangles at her wrist tinkling softly. "Just keep a close eye on what you agree to do, and don't turn your back on him."

…

Sora was warm. Warm was nice. Warm meant relative safety, comfort and less possibility of amputation to blackened and frost-bitten limbs. Warm reminded him of a distant place he could barely remember, where the waters were lucid and the colours were brilliant and captivating. The soft rise and fall of the solid warmth beneath his ear and the distinct rhythmic thud was reminiscent of the foaming waves against a wooden dock.

He wrinkled his nose as the sound of scritching pervaded his thoughts, cracking an eye open to find the source of the offending noise.

"You're loud, General." He nestled deeper against his firm pillow, the hands resting at his hips tightening slightly, holding him in place.

The sound paused.

Green eyes.

He liked seeing those eyes; they were fascinating in a completely different way than Riku's. Riku's eyes were warm, but hazy. Murky. The chemicals in his system had dulled them, and they swirled with blues like the ocean.

These eyes were intensely pure and clear.

…they were like the blue of the man they had just met.

And those green eyes glanced at his drowsy curious ones from under a cascade of white –grey?- hair. He liked to think of it as a waterfall. At least, it was what he assumed a waterfall would look like; pale and shiny, soft strands of water hanging over rocks. Yes, that would be a beautiful thing to see.

Riku was growing his own waterfall.

"If you wish to continue to slumber, I suggest you move elsewhere. I have work here to accomplish." The scritching continued.

This was among the few times Sora had awoken to anything other than white and bland, though he often woke curled around Riku.

"Are you willing to impart now why you deemed it necessary to leave your chambers, incapacitate three orderlies and assault your newest compatriot?" The General lowered the pen he had been using as he spoke. It was black ink. It was always black ink. The General never wrote with anything else. Sora wanted to see him use pink.

Just once.

"Leon told on us." Riku's voice sounded heavier than when he was awake. Fully awake. Sora liked it best that way. It was another indication that he was where he belonged. "I told you he would."

"Or the fact that we left a trail and came to the General." Kairi shifted into a sitting position, "I told you we shouldn't have left those white men still moving."

"They were unconscious."

"They were breathing."

There was the sound of a throat clearing and three sets of eyes turned to look at the older man.

"If you intend this action again, there will be no tolerance for the injuring of personnel on base without orders. I also suggest that you formulate a better course of action than running about on your whims and aim for a unified goal."

Sora grinned. He knew that they wouldn't be reprimanded by the General for escaping to begin with. There was no love lost between _Him_ and the General. Sora was quite certain that the General wanted him dead, but it was one of those confusing situations he didn't quite understand. He _did_ understand that the moment the General gave him the order, he would happily oblige.

He thought it was because the General wanted to do it himself.

"Is Matron around?" Leave it to Riku to remember why they had come. He didn't like the General much, and Sora assumed it was because he was jealous. His smile grew at the thought and began idly stroking Riku's waterfall.

"She has been called away from base on an errand." His gloved hands twitched and came to rest on the arms of his chair. Sora wondered why he always wore them, but when he had asked the General had ignored him.

"Someone's coming." Kairi's eyes were riveted on the door to the office as though the plain wooden board hid something fascinating.

"It is time for you to leave." The older man gestured to the door from his seat. Sora liked how unfazed the man always seemed. Like a rock, carved to be human and dressed in shadows. "You will wait for Edea in your chambers. I will see that she is notified of your request for an audience."

…

Blue eyes. So blue they seemed to glow. The focused directly on him for a brief moment, something flaring beneath – recognition? – before they focused on a point slightly to the left of his shoulder.

"Sir."

He was silent as he regarded the blond, the defiant spikes of hair challenging his gaze. A step to the side…a shift of gaze. Interesting.

"…Leonhart informed me that you had requested my presence."

The General turned his back to the younger man, stalking gracefully to the large window behind his desk. "…I had requested both yourself _and_ Squall Leonhart present, but it seems that he finds himself above the orders of his superiors."

His fist clenched and unclenched subconsciously while clasped at his back. That man was one of the few that would even dare to ignore his orders, hiding behind his father's position regardless of how much he protested his dependence. A petulant child attempting to be rebellious, how trite. It would have to be dealt with soon, but it _did_ allow him a measure of freedom in the assessment of the new recruit.

"Where were you prior to your induction into this facility?" No need to check the files; they didn't exist. "What faction trained you?"

"I don't know, Sir." Was the only reply the grey-haired man received.

Which was ludicrous and unacceptable.

The man was hiding something - that much was apparent.

"I witnessed your exhibition, I recognized your manoeuvres. Where did you learn?" He turned emerald eyes upon the slighter man, gauging his reactions. Hesitation. Uncertainty.

"I don't know, Sir."

There was silence in the room for more time than it looked like the blond could handle. He shifted beneath the General's unblinking eyes with obvious discomfort.

"They reported you had a temper; a spirit." He strode calmly over, stopping just inside the blond man's personal space; one step closer than protocol accepted. He could literally see the man's struggle not to step back. Amusement flickered in the back of his mind.

"The reason you are here today is to decide your function within this unit; an assessment that Leonhart would have proven useful with." Silent, wilful and difficult no doubt as well. "We have yet to test your abilities with standard issue weapon, but already you have proven quite…inventive. We have no reason to believe you would be incompetent in their usage at this time."

He wanted to see that indignant spirit; wanted to spark a fire, an anger, any expression in the young man. Something different than the closed and guarded expression that the blond had adopted after he realized…overcome his initial discomfort.

It could be written off as a test of his mental stability, he mused.

It was still there…there were traces underneath his mask. If he stepped a little closer, mentioned a little more based on his assumptions. There was a vague sense of memory with this individual; glimpses of his past that his mind insisted had something to do with – but they wouldn't stay.

Instead he bent closer – just close enough that his hair grazed the side of the other's face, one gloved hand lightly tracing his cheek. There was a spark of amusement as he felt the flinch at the touch from an otherwise frozen body. "You have the right look…and if Leonhart's report is accurate, you have the spirit to do well in that field…"

"…sir?" the man remained immobile. Oh yes, this one would do well with some training.

Leonhart had become difficult to send out on all assignments that came in, and not all that did would accept Lockheart as a substitute. Vincent was unsuitable for such work due to his personality and…habits, and no doubt Riku would kill the target long before completion should Sora take the job.

"Yes, I think you will do well…" he straightened, lightly gripping the man by his chin and tilting it slightly, smirking. "I will inform Lockheart and Leonhart to begin training you and getting you accustomed to your new duties."

There was a look of confusion in the blue eyes as they finally glanced his way, focusing on him and not on a space in the distance. Impressive.

"That is all."


	4. Chapter Four: Expound

**Chapter Four: Expound**

Tifa was well used to using her body as a weapon. She had honed it from an early age, and there were very few who could match her in a brawl, despite her size. But a body could be used as a weapon in so _very_ many ways.

The punching bag kept a steady rhythm beneath her blows, the sound of the chain echoing in the otherwise empty gym. It was nice here, when there were no people.

She was proud to be a member of this team, and enjoyed dressing up to play her part almost as much as bringing her fists into the deal. Punch. Really, it was a fine art to know how to bring a man down in stilettos and evening wear, even more so with only a suggestion and a smile. But she'd lost count of the number of times she'd ruined dresses through bloodstains. Kick Punch. On the plus side, it meant she was allowed an extensive wardrobe for such occasions. They really did prefer a peaceful conversion than a trail of bodies.

It worried her to see the young kid they'd brought in this time though. The bag rattled in protest.

Sure he had seemed to have a rather surly and antisocial streak, but it was hard to get past those wide blue eyes and _not_ see him getting hurt by it. Leon would see him through…wouldn't let him get hurt. But solo missions…he was sure to break. She increased her pace.

There was no doubt in her mind where they would place him. He was too pretty. Girlish even. Hell, they could probably use him in her stead and _still_ get the job done with enough training and a great deal less inhibition.

Inhibitions…that was the one thing they would certainly need to work on. Especially if he got so worked up over crayon stick figures. She couldn't help the snort at that. If he had issues pairing with Leon, they'd have to work harder than they'd anticipated.

With a roundhouse kick, the restraints on the bag snapped, and with a quick recovery another kick sent it flying across the room. That was the third time the thing had broken on her this week. She'd have to talk to maintenance about that.

"This is why no one shares the gym with you, Lockheart." The voice had a subtle humour to it, and Tifa grinned.

"And what brought you, Leonhart?" She always loved seeing him in civilian clothes, not the least because he always seemed to wear leather. They made him more approachable – less the stuck-up, stone-hearted, tell-it-to-a-wall kind of guy. It had to be the pants. Definitely the pants, she thought as she drew closer. "Or should the question be _where were you_?"

"Just passing by and wondering why something sounded like it was dying."

"I see. Somewhere you don't want to tell me." She crossed her arms as she leaned forward, grinning knowingly.

"Laguna's in town."

Well that wasn't exactly what she had been thinking but – wait…he had actually responded. That was new…

It did explain the clothes though. The president hated to see men in uniforms; even his staff rarely wore suits. Then again, she had see Kiros and Ward fight before; they didn't need a uniform to intimidate people.

"He have anything important to say?"

Leon let out a soft grunt, "Matron's calling a briefing now that she's back. Laguna's great epiphany will be revealed then."

She could tell there was something else that was bothering him, even if he was notoriously good at keeping things buried. It seemed it was too big to hide completely this time. Either that or she had known him too long now.

Tifa liked to think the latter. Even if at the same time the thought terrified her.

"And you really came to the gym for?"

"To use the punching bag, but clearly someone has made that thought obsolete." He replied dryly.

"And you need to take your anger out on a poor stuffed pillow because? Really, Leon, you look like you could do with a few rounds at the firing range."

There was silence for a much longer period than she had expected. Really, she had expected him to turn around and leave. Or reply with a short witty retort before telling her to get back to work. It seemed like seeing the President put him further out on a loop than usual.

"The man brought Rinoa."

Oh. Well…that called for some Grade A snooping. Yuffie would be overjoyed.

…

When they had returned, he was waiting for them, a sardonic smile nestled smugly on his face. The harsh lights from the white room glinting on his glasses – circular – washing out his eyes. There were times in those vague hazy moments, where the world didn't seem quite right, and there was the suspicion in Riku's mind that the man had no eyes.

He couldn't have eyes.

If he had eyes, he would see the pain each time Sora convulsed; see the bruises and scars from treatments that didn't react favourably. Surely if he could see those things, he would react differently; would be kinder, like Shera or Lucrecia.

So obviously he had no eyes.

But his blindness had no obstruction on his ability to function, because it certainly did not stop him from resuming his injections; writing maddeningly upon crisp, newly printed sheets with short, abrupt scratches. Riku hated the man, consoling his anger by images of his stark white lab coat streaked with red. He wondered if it _would_ be red. He briefly entertained the thought of thick green sludge congealing beneath skin, inching slowly through veins and quivering with malice.

When he finally left, Kairi and Sora curled together on his bunk, and Riku locked his anger away, crawling on hands and knees to the steel bed frame. It took a little effort – more effort than he wanted to expend – but he managed to haul himself alongside the others, offering Sora a grin he could not feel.

The General couldn't have known. He wouldn't have sent them back if he had.

Sora's hair was soft under his fingers, springing back into place no matter how often he stroked it. It was calming, in a way. When he was able to ignore the sweat-dampened locks and pretend they were safe and whole.

Kairi was shivering. He couldn't stop it. Why couldn't he stop it?

At the sound of the door reopening, Riku's head shot to the source, his grip around Sora tightening as the brunet shrunk back against the wall. He was back – he wouldn't stop this time – there was nothing left –

Riku relaxed at the sight of the pale woman watching him placidly from the door, her long dark hair hanging with rigid straightness down her back. She smiled softly as she stepped in, shutting the door carefully behind her.

"Matron." His voice sounded slightly grating now, and he found himself wanting water more than anything. A whole ocean of water, clean and pure.

The woman's simple dark dress was splattered around her ankles with light mud, and she still wore the shoes that meant she intended to travel far. She only wore those shoes when she accompanied them on missions, Riku remembered, the thought bringing a strange curiosity. Even more when he noticed the large bag hanging at her side. Where they leaving now? Like this?

Riku knew there was something different about him. He didn't react the same as the other two mentally. Ever since he had killed – no…you can't kill what never lived. He'd been listening to Sora too much. Ever since he had accepted his delusions for what they were – accepted them and moved on – he had been able to retain more of himself; knew more about what was going on. He hid it well though. No need to break the illusion, nothing good could come of it. He needed to be able to think faster, that element of surprise, if he was going to protect Sora and Kairi.

If they were to be taken now and sent into the world…he would be the one to make sure they all came back.

…even if he couldn't feel his legs.

Well that might be a problem. But damn it, he'd do it somehow…even if he had to tie them to his back.

"We went to visit you." Sora rasped from his side, the voice ridiculously loud considering it was right next to his ear. He sounded cheerful though, even chuckled despite it all, so Riku forgave him.

"So I heard. I am sorry I was not here." She smiled softly, crouching down next to the bunk, and Riku knew she meant more than just their visit. "General Sephiroth informed me that you all slept in his office last night. I hope you thanked him properly before you left."

"Where were you?" Kairi mumbled softly. She looked paler than usual, but her trembling had lessened a good deal. That was a positive sign at least…right?

"I was visiting a friend of mine in town." the voice was calming. Sora liked that voice, and Riku found he couldn't disagree with the sentiment. "You would like her; she's the sister of our Paine."

Kairi's eyes lit up, fingers curling tightly in the sheets as she leaned forward. "Are Rikku and Paine coming back?"

"No dear, they're still on their leave, and will be for at least another nine months." She smiled. Her smile always seemed sad. "They send presents though. Lulu is quite skilled in making toys, and I asked her to make very special ones for you three. Rikku and Paine also ran some errands for me…they wanted you to be happy."

Sora sat up as eagerly as he could manage, a large grin on his face. Riku was glad that he was able to bounce back so quickly. Irrepressible.

The presents, it turned out, were four stuffed animals, each the size of his forearm and dressed in brightly coloured clothing. Well, one of them was dressed. Two of them were partially dressed, and the fourth was clearly a dog.

Well, the others were clearly – Riku forced his brain to stop thinking. They were stuffed animals. Kind of. Any further classification was useless.

So he smiled awkwardly as Matron handed him an oversized mouse in red shorts and gloves, and handed it over quietly to Kairi when she indicated she wanted to see. He was too old for stuffed animals anyhow.

Sora was overjoyed at the two he had been given – what looked like a duck dressed as a sailor and a mutant dog…hippo…thing. In all fairness to it, at least it was the only one that was fully dressed. He didn't know if he was more disturbed that his mouse had no shirt, or that the duck had no pants.

Or that he was seriously considering the ramifications of animal's state of undress.

"I think you mouse is Pluto's master." Kairi said suddenly, holding up her ludicrously yellow dog. It looked like it had a tumour on its head.

"You named yours already?" Sora….it looked like Sora was pouting. He was disappointed that Kairi had named a ball of plush?

"Each one of these is a very special present from me." Matron's hand patted the knee closest to her – Sora's – and smiled once more. "I want you to take very good care of them; I hope that they will be helpful to you when you need it most. If all goes well, you won't be in here much longer, but be good for now. I will speak to the orderlies and Hojo, so your presents will be safe. You will all be safe."

And she was gone as quickly as she had come.

Riku knew she had other obligations, but he couldn't help but feel resentful that they were left alone again at the mercy of the man in white.

"Mice can't have dogs." Riku crossed his arms stubbornly, eyes watchful as Kairi made her yellow mutt prance about with his mouse. He was beginning to feel a little possessive of his present. She had given it to him, it was his.

"Well this one does. He's a King." She said smugly, pausing in Pluto's walk to pull and distort the stuffed mouse's face. She looked genuinely happy now.

Sora crawled forward. "How is he a King?"

"He's magical." Well that seemed logical, Sora nodded in understanding.

"I'd think they're all magical." Riku yawned, with a calculatedly casually gesture tugging the mouse into his lap. Mission 'retrieve-mouse-king' successful. "I mean look, the mouse is wearing pants, the duck thinks he's a sailor and whatever the hell that goofy thing is, he's trying to be human."

"I think it's a dog." Kairi wrinkled her nose as she squinted at the thing, all thoughts of needles and pain blissfully gone through the godsend that was Matron's distractions.

"He's got a point though." Sora's deft fingers pried into the thing's mouth, before tugging on the long droopy ears.

"If that's a _dog_," Riku said stubbornly, "then why's Pluto not wearing pants? I thought Pluto was a dog."

"Maybe he's a relative of dogs. A wolf? He's kinda got fang things…maybe he's mutated wolf that was abandoned by his pack and raised by mice."

Kairi thought this over for a moment as though it was a matter of grave importance. "I'll accept that. He can be friends with the sailor mallard."

"Whatever, they serve my King Mouse." Riku folded his arms as he leant back against the wall, closing his eyes. He just wanted Sora to move back. He just wanted to sleep. Whatever that man had done had left him exhausted.

Sora, instead of falling to his wishes peaceably, slammed his fist into the thin mattress with more strength than he thought the brunet still had. The vibration made his head jar painfully against the wall. Why was nothing simple anymore? "You can't just call him Mouse, that's silly!"

Riku groaned. "I'll call him Phillip then. King Phillip."

"That sounds stupid too." Kairi. Damn it Kairi, Riku cracked open an eye to look at her. Why did she have to prolong this? This meant it would take longer before he could sleep. Weren't they tired too?

"Well what would you call him then? I like the name Phillip"

"Arthur!"

"Bacon!"

"Gertrude!"

"Sora, you choose." With any luck he's stick with Bacon, but it didn't really bother him much. So he'd end up with a mouse named like a greasy fat-filled delicious pig by-product. Whatever.

"Mickey!"

Good. "King Mickey then."

Kairi grinned. "The Fourth."

Sora seconded the expression. "King Mickey the Fourth."

Riku let himself fall over, pulling Sora with him on his way down. "Alright. Now we sleep."

He was glad when neither party argued, and he felt two pairs of arms wrap around him.

He would deal with pant-wearing mice-kings tomorrow.

…

The screen came to life with the face of a well groomed man in his late thirties. Blond hair, immaculate trimmed beard and high necked white suit.

"Recently we have become aware of Ansem, commonly dubbed 'Ansem the Wise', acting as a vigilante against what he has identified as one 'Organization XIII'."

"Wait, Ansem as in, 'Uncle Scrooge's Sea-Salt Savouries' Ansem?" Yuffie had planted her hands on the table, leaning farther across the table than Cloud though possible. "I thought he quacked years ago!"

Leon continued as though she had never spoken, turning a page on the report in his hand as the screen flickered to a new image. Stoic bastard. "Late last year he was secretly ousted from his post as CEO and replaced by his protégé, our very own Xehanort."

The man on the screen reminded Cloud vaguely of Sephiroth – had Sephiroth taken two months vacation in some tropical resort and, God willing, ventured out into the sun. From what he could see, the man was dressed in what looked relatively expensive…but hell, that ruffled scarf at his neck made him look more like a stuffed chicken.

"Let me guess," Yuffie pointed dramatically at a water-stained crack in the ceiling, no doubt using her vast array of stealthy ninja logic to arrive at a conclusion. "Xehanort's still a mean old bastard with no heart who hates all things good in the world and is planning the ultimate ploy to steal candy from children throughout the universe!"

"No!" Selphie's chair toppled as she sprang to her feet, fists slamming on the table. "We can't let him get away with that! That heartless, no-good, candy-stealing –"

There was the sound of a throat clearing and Matron stared pointedly at the two girls. They were silent. Really, he had to learn how to do that. Not even Leon's stare-of-death had much effect it seemed; not compared to this Matron. At least then he would be able to avoid the inevitable barrage of questions and pestering from the remainder of the team once this briefing was over.

"…To move on, this sort of internal power struggle is not what we typically deal with, but the 'Powers that Be' have deliberated on the issue recently and come to a conclusion. Considering our dealings with Xehanort in the past, it's not much of a surprise. Laguna and Rufus convened yesterday, and deemed it a possible threat to the nation as a whole; at the very least as detrimental to the economy. If this 'Organization' turns out as devious as Ansem seems to insist, allowing them to control such an influential and wealthy company is not advisable. Whatever our course, we cannot allow Ansem to move on his own as it seems his intent is more likely along the lines of ending not only Xehanort, but Uncle Scrooge's as well. He's willing to stop at nothing to see this problem dealt with. We need to get there first."

"…You're pulling an undercover operation to liberate a children's sweet factory from an ambitious salary man?" Cloud was very still, his eyes not leaving Leon's. This was a joke, right? Who had ever heard of people dying over blue ice on wooden sticks?

"To put it bluntly," Leon deadpanned, "yes."

Great, he thought, why not. Afterwards, let's all go to the circus to watch Simba jump through flaming hoops! Cloud shook his head and threw up his hands in resignation. Whatever. They were paying him.

Leon's eyes lingered on him a moment longer before flickering back across the assembled team. "Now we already have some established links into Organization XIII, and we'll be seeing some familiar faces here so we're not entirely blind in this situation."

Matron stepped forward, bringing up a screen of new faces. "Axel Yoshida. Last contact was made three weeks ago by Sora Watanabe, code name Roxas."

The red head was grinning at him in a way that reminded him of someone. Someone he didn't like. Well, he typically didn't mesh well with cocky bastards, and this Axel certainly came off as one. He wondered vaguely if this man fought with a tazer, not quite sure where the thought came from. He absently rubbed his side, some forgotten injury from years ago. The two tear-shaped face tattoos were ringing warning bells loud enough that he had to consciously restrain himself from covering his ears.

That couldn't be a good sign.

The face was replaced with the white-haired Xehanort once more, still with that damned ruffle. Cloud sighed. At least there was the silence of oblivion again.

"There is little need to inform you that Riku Matsuda will be taking this assignment from the regular squad, not only because of your newest member's lack of practical experience. Since our last dealings with this man, he has his eyes set on Matsuda and would not react favourably to a change."

"Ma'am," Tifa interjected, Cloud turning a curious gaze on the brunette, "Not that I doubt yours and the General's assessment of the situation, but has Riku recovered from the last time? He didn't seem all that stable when he threatened Strife with a magnum. If there is a potential of the same happening this time…"

Matron shook her dark head slowly. "That will not be an issue. Dear Riku has vanquished his demons quite admirably and will treat this assignment like any other."

Cloud straightened in his seat as the pale woman turned her gaze on him. Somehow he wasn't sure this would turn out well.

"Because we require that you, Cloud Strife, adapt and learn as quickly as possible, you also will be accompanying the SeeD –"

"Valentine!" Tifa and the other girls shouted in unison.

"—Unit in this situation." The only indication of her hearing them was a raised brow and a slight smirk. "Squall."

Leon stood impassively against the wall behind her, arms crossed in feigned disinterest.

"General Sephiroth has drawn up the teams for infiltration. Tifa and yourself will act together this round –"

"Won't that seem suspicious?"

"Not in the least. As a Loire a certain amount of promiscuity is expected, and it leaves your new boy under the tutelage of a veteran. The General will focus on the target, Riku will be there as distraction, Tifa and Squall mingle with the rest of the notaries as backup."

"Flaunting that connection is not foremost in my priorities."

"It will be used as deemed necessary." The pale woman said tersely, her hands folded carefully in front of her dark dress. Cloud couldn't help but be curious of the meaning to their succinct words, but he had a feeling he would hear no answers from Leon. "We will discuss this later, Squall. The General's accompaniment this time is due solely to the tenuous trust he has established with the target; further advancement will hopefully be achieved without his assistance."

"Are the schematics up on the building's structural integrity?" the low voice was uttered from the folds of heavy crimson fabric. Funny…that was the first time he had heard Vincent speak. Why he wanted to know about structural integrity though…that made Cloud more than a little worried about what he was getting himself into.

"They will be up on the mainframe by this evening for your scanning pleasure, complete with your postings, Vincent, Yuna. Remember, this is _not _a direct assault – the two of you will be providing cover only if it is deemed necessary. The rest of you will be gathering intel for further consideration, while Sora attempts to touch down with Axel Yoshida to see if we can't win him over as our informant. We have reason to believe that they have established a connection that will ease the transition. Yuffie, Selphie and Kairi will be taking over for the usual wait staff."

The two girls present grinned.

"Professionalism, please."

"Yes Ma'am" They said in unison, sharing a grin with Tifa.

Cloud watched warily as Tifa stood and Leon moved silently towards him.

"Your uniforms will be available at the tact shop by six." Matron raised a hand. "Squall, Tifa – get our new boy ready for the General and briefed on what to expect. We can't afford to blow this."

It was when the hands clamped down on his shoulders that he truly felt he was in over his head.


	5. Chapter Five: Exacerbation

**Chapter Five: Exacerbation**

"Alright, Fearless Leader, where do we start?"

There was the slightest trace of seriousness in Tifa's voice that put him on edge. Leon's stone-cold mask of indifference wasn't helping much either.

"No one could get him ready for Sephiroth in such short time." Was the weighted reply. There was the itch of being looked over – appraised. "What we _can_ do is break him down a little."

"What?" Cloud got to his feet, hands already protesting this course of action.

"Relax, Strife." Tifa's wink was all but reassuring. "You're scaring him, Leon. You should have said 'break him in'"

"Look, I don't know what you need to prepare me for but –"

It was then that Leon decided to make a move. Within less than a second of his gloved hand making contact with Cloud's neck, Leon found himself thrown harshly against the wall. Before he could blink, his arms were pinned behind his back and the blonde's shoulder pressed firmly against his spine.

"Holy shit." Was Tifa's best reply.

Cloud, for his part, was rather confused as to how or why he had the scarred man pinned to the wall. It didn't stop him from slamming the man back against the plaster when he tried to move. Leon remained motionless after that.

"Let him go, Cloud."

"What were you doing?" Trust was a delicate issue. That man had surprised him and gone for his throat. He had military training. How the hell was Cloud supposed to know what he was going to do once he had a good grip? But he released the man, quickly stepping out of retaliatory range. He may say he was an ally…but then recently he'd faced off against two of those already. Frankly, Leon's odds weren't that good on the trust meter.

Leon moved slowly, one hand rubbing feeling back into where his face had abruptly met the wall. "…Well that's one thing we need to work at…"

"Surprising you to test your reaction to what to expect on the field, I expect." Tifa responded to Cloud, casting Leon a worried glance. "You just seem to have pre-empted his surprise with one of your own."

Cloud shifted awkwardly, his eyes carefully monitoring their movements. From his experience with Problems One, Two and Three and a Half, he knew that Tifa had strength and the ability to restrain him if caught unawares. He didn't want to hurt her if he could help it.

"Reactions and strength that match Vincent's…who trained you?" Leon was watching him just as carefully.

"I'd say he was on par with the General, Leon. You would have gotten a better hold on Vinnie…before he disappeared."

"Great." Leon shook his head. "What was it that set you off, Strife?"

"Well for one, we didn't give him any warning." Tifa shot Leon a glare. Cloud still stood silently, hands gripping the chair back tightly. "Clearly he has issues with surprises. That needs to be worked on without dulling his reaction time."

She turned to him then, taking on an air as though she was addressing the troops, complete with oversized general hat and pointing stick.

"You have been assigned to the SeeD position. Affectionately called the Valentine Corps, these agents work at infiltrating social settings, gather information and establish connections."

"The training you will require will be in your reactions, your ability to escape and defend yourself – which clearly does not seem to be an issue – and your social skills depending on the most likely situations you will find yourself in."

"_You're_ going to teach me social skills?" Cloud cast Leon a sceptical glance.

"For now, we're going to teach you how to survive as the General's puppet for this mission. Anything else would take far longer than time permits. We can't rewire you in one night, and for this operation to work, he will need your complete cooperation."

"How much training do I need to just let the General do his job?" Cloud said dryly.

"That depends how adaptable you are." Leon returned. Match point.

"You're acting as the General's escort, Cloud, just as I will be Leon's." Tifa's hand waved idly as though the explanation was purely superfluous, attempting to distract the initial impact of her words.

"Wait, what?" he felt something in him seize, despite the airiness the brunette was trying to force onto the situation. Not good not good not good. Escorts meant boldness and carrying conversations. Escorts meant being thrust into the spotlight and being picked apart, weighed, judged, examined. Escorts meant – Hell, he wasn't sure if he could even meet the man's eyes for longer than a few moments with all the confusion surrounding him, if he was expected to actually allow the man close enough to – no. Absolutely not. "Why can't you use Yuffie or Selphie or Yuna or _you, _Tifa! What about Leon? Who would you send with him before I got here? This _really_ isn't a good idea."

It was Leon who answered. "It is well known to his acquaintances that he has no interest or patience for females. If he were to attend this event with Tifa, he would be called on it. Any chance of getting closer to Xehanort would be lost."

There was a silent moment wherein he and Tifa exchanged glances.

"He and Leon don't…mesh well together. Your predecessor was a man named Tidus."

"So use him."

"He's dead."

"…oh." Well damn.

"Sit down."

Cloud complied without thought.

…

Despite the unbelievable creepiness that was Sephiroth, it didn't take much of Yuffie's awesome ninja skills to gain permission for a few hours leave. Some stealth to get into Sephiroth's office while he conversed with Matron, some application of information…

Alright, so yes, she had to run a few errands for Matron while she was out, and yes she had agreed to have an escort during that time – but she had totally won that encounter.

Shut up.

She'd also left with some interesting information on their new blond agent in the process. When even the Great Sephiroth was left in the dark about something, it was a mystery worth looking into.

But she had another mystery to solve first. Like what had Squall's britches in a twist.

Sure, she'd said that she'd accept an escort. Yes, she said she'd wait for the driver to get back. She said a lot of things.

Didn't stop her from taking the jeep, or waving merrily at the man as she drove off. It was just what ninja's did.

She'd apologize later.

Besides, Tifa would kill her if she left traces of her snooping. No witnesses of her destination, no reports on her activities.

So, that left her in a now silent green jeep, staring down the block at a set of large wrought iron gates as she counted off the seconds. There was a tight security ring around this property…cameras, patrols…one remarkably tall fence.

Made sense, really. The President was an important man, after all.

It would be fun, at least.

There was a gap in time, exactly three minutes and twenty-five seconds before the patrolling guards would have visual again. Within that window of time, there was exactly twenty-_one_ seconds in which the camera's surveillance range would move beyond a small section of the wall approximately eighteen metres from the gate.

Under it all, she was really smarter and more attentive than people gave her credit for. Not that she was going to advertise the fact; taking people by surprise – being underestimated – that was her greatest strength sometimes.

That and her dashing good looks.

Personality.

Hell, she was a winner all around.

That's why when she casually strolled up to the wall, offering the passing guards a disarming grin, she didn't worry too much about what Leon's eventual retaliation once he found out where she had been.

Taking this wall was nothing after the ones she'd climbed to escape that man's wrath.

And she still found it hilarious to see the expression of the dark-haired woman when, seven minutes and fifteen seconds later – she was getting faster at this – she knocked politely on the third story window.

"Howdy!" She grinned, flipping into the room once the window was opened.

Shiny! She'd only ever been in this place once before, but the sheer amount of things that looked…well that looked like they would fetch quite a price and were portable…oh this place was so _hers._

"Yuffie?" The woman's face broke into a grin that matched Yuffie's, grabbing her by the hands and spinning the poor ninja girl around. How can one focus on the most expensive things when one's world is twisting so precariously? But Yuffie was the best ninja in generations, so she managed. "I'm so glad to see you! I've been meaning to stop by and visit everyone, but they're keeping me busy here and then there's Laguna…And then Squall stopped by and I thought that…well…Yuffie, it's so good to see you again!"

Yuffie was still smiling, even as her mind was trying to piece together what she was talking about.

"Geez, Rinoa, if you want to see us, you should just come." She took a moment to actually look at the young woman, remembering why she was there when she realized just how much she and Tifa looked alike. If Rinoa, you know, had a larger chest, more muscle and more height. And Tifa wore something normal as a civilian for once. Or even a complete outfit devoid of leather.

She stopped herself from laughing at the thought of Tifa in Rinoa's blue angel-winged duster. Ah well. There was always Halloween.

Was that a ring on her finger?

Yuffie picked up a particularly shiny statue as she threw herself on the large – gigantic – canopied bed. Was that gold or gold leaf? She squinted, tilting it to catch the light.

"So…ah…" Rinoa sat gingerly next to her, hands on her knees, "How is everyone? Tifa, Paine?"

"Paine's off with Rikku for a bit. Yuna was upset for a while that she couldn't go with them, but she has Tidus, so it's all good." Gold leaf. Dammit.

"I thought Tidus was…" There was confusion in her voice. Yuffie didn't blame her; she had always been a little slow.

"Yeah, well try explaining that to _her_. Or Selphie. But, that's another thing entirely. Is that materia?" She was eying a large stone orb sitting on the bedside table. It looked like it was primarily being used as a decorative paperweight…that girl never did know to appreciate things for their true value.

"I'm not sure. Maybe? Rufus gave it to me a few days ago."

"Mmhm…so…Squall came to visit, huh?" She thrust the statue into Rinoa's hands, letting herself fall back. Squishy! Man, she _had_ to ask Sephiroth for one of these duvets. There was no doubt about it; chocobo feather. They probably needed five of the beasts to fill this thing. Swanky. "How'd that go?"

"Oh…ah…well, I don't think he and Laguna get on too well…"

Yuffie nodded encouragingly. Well, as best as she could while curled up in cloud-like chocobo bliss. These things should be illegal.

They probably were.

"You know, if he was just around more..." She sighed. "He just needs to get used to Laguna. I mean, I fight with _my_ father all the time! It doesn't mean I cut him out of my life though…is he going to cut me out too, because of this?"

Yuffie slowly sat up at that, turning to look at the dark-haired woman with the bubbling excitement of finally catching hold of that one tiny overlooked hardly important but devastatingly revealing piece of information.

"I mean, I told Laguna to tell Squall before the public. It's only fair, after all that he should know first! But he just…"

"Turned around and walked out?" Yuffie supplied helpfully.

"Well, not right away, but essentially, yes!" Yuffie cast a concerned glance at the statue. It may not be as expensive as she'd first thought, but it would still fetch a good price. Not if it was broken though, which is where it looked like it would end up in Rinoa's grip. "I wish he would just talk to us about it! Talk to _me_. Wait…is that why you're here?"

There was a silence where the dark-haired woman and she had a stare-off.

Yuffie, for her part, had no idea what the other woman was on about, but damned if she lost a staring contest.

"He sent you here for a purpose, didn't he." She sprang to her feet, the statue hitting the bedside table with a forceful thud. "I knew it! What a cowardly, socially inept, self-centred, egotistical –"

If left alone, Yuffie knew that Rinoa would continue ranting for far longer than she had patience. Or permission to be off base, for that matter. "As much I like hearing you badmouth our Leonhart, he doesn't know I'm here. In fact, if he knew I was here, it's likely I'd be found ten years from now in many small pieces scattered about the city only identifiable from the curses carved into my bones. _But_, by all means, continue."

"Oh." Rinoa stopped in the middle of her pacing, turning back to the young ninja sitting placidly on her bed. "Then why _are_ you here?"

Yuffie grinned. "_Tifa_ sent me to find out why our…what was it…our 'cowardly, socially inept, self-centred, egotistical' Leonhart was more tetchy than usual."

"You can tell the difference?" Rinoa snorted softly to herself. Yuffie decided to ignore that comment for the moment, storing it away to use later.

"So what exactly was it that you and Mr. President had to tell Squall boy?"

"We're getting married." Rinoa held up her hand, another shiny sparkling. "Two months. Oh. And I'm pregnant."

Yuffie couldn't help herself. She tried, really, she did. But she _really _couldn't help herself, and ended up doubled over laughing. She'd always thought that Squall would have a more creative reason to angst.

…

"We're going to take this one more time."

Leon circled Cloud leisurely, leaving him with the feeling of being prey. He didn't like that feeling. That feeling made him want to…Cloud didn't even know himself. Bare his fangs and attack? But he knew they weren't training him to be the alpha wolf here. They were trying to train him to sit back and take it.

Be the General's puppet.

…God, he hated that word.

But he had no where else to go. It wasn't as though he could just up and leave this place…he had no place left to run; no home or family or life or pets to return to. He was a blank slate. If they wanted to throw him to the lions, he would go; if only because he had no where else to turn. Didn't mean he wouldn't try and take a few down on his way, though.

"Relax." Tifa's voice was mellow, trying to keep him focused on the part they needed him to play. He was beginning to hate that word too.

Relax puppet, ignore the hand creeping towards your neck, the other trapping you in place. Relax puppet, that squeeze is a signal, not an attempt to locate your vital points. Smile, the audience is watching.

You have no strings to hold you down, but you're not a real boy. Not yet.

He's going to make a man out of you.

Leon's head was looming closer, and Cloud found himself fighting his instincts of measuring the distance and timing – of how close he could let the man get before an effective escape was possible. How much damage could be done at what range.

"Cloud, you're tensing up again." Tifa took a few steps to the left, one hand poking the muscles at his back and neck. One well placed jab in the small of his back. "Never stand so straight, you give off the air of an automaton following instruction. Lower your shoulders. You don't need to lean into advances if you don't want to. Holding back is an acceptable form of expression, but only when the situation allows for it."

Leon held his position calmly through Tifa's assessment, his face an expressionless mask as though he was just going through the motions, like he had a hundred times before, and would innumerable times in the future. Romantic, that.

"You haven't tried to kill Leon yet, that's a good sign. This is the point where if there was a drink available, it's advisable to use it as a prop. If you ignore your surroundings too much, someone will notice and in this line of work, curiosity is rarely a blessing." Tifa squinted slightly, tilting her head. "Cloud, if he's coming in like that, your hands can't be locked at your sides. The General is known for intimidating his escorts, but he still elicits a response."

"Leon is hardly the General, Tifa." Cloud grated.

"No." The speaker was kind enough to lower his voice, considering how close he was to the blonde's ear, standing toe to toe as they were. Cloud could feel the ticklish bristling of the scarred man's hair against his cheek. If he hadn't, he would have received a fist in his gut. Good to see he was learning. "The General would not be nearly this patient with you. You will move your hands."

Ha. Bastard. Cloud allowed Tifa to manoeuvre his right hand, feeling the solid warmth of the chest beneath the white shirt. The tips of his fingers ran over the warm metal of the lion-headed necklace he wore. No wonder he'd thought of prey.

"He will expect his escort to be ready and responsive to the slightest change in situation. We don't have the time to teach you all of the signals that have been developed for this purpose - and there are a lot of them - but we'll try and have you knowing as many of the important ones as possible. The General knows you're inexperienced on the field." Tifa grimaced, "Leon, you're right - Sephiroth is hardly going to be that careful. We're trying to prepare him here."

Cloud couldn't help tensing up at that, swivelling to look at Tifa with widening eyes.

"He's barely holding out on gutting me with his bare hands as it is, Lockhart." Leon said dryly. "I don't think pushing him against a wall is the best option at the moment, especially considering where that ended up last time."

"You just don't want to be the submissive." Tifa shot back without missing a beat. "He's a man, Leon, telling him to _sit back and take it_ isn't high on his list of things to listen to."

Cloud was sure there was a headache coming on. This was a bad dream. Nightmare. This was a horrible nightmare. And when he woke up, he would be…be…alone in a cold apartment, waiting for no one and expecting nothing. If he could remember…maybe he really did have a life somewhere, waiting for him to come back. A nice wife, white picket fence, three bratty kids. Well, not kids; he was pretty sure he was only 21, and that was far more than he was willing to deal with. Then again, maybe he was a convict facing thirty odd years in a cold dark cell. Amnesia was a bitch.

So instead of turning around and leaving – probably slamming the door on the gratifyingly shocked faces of the two quite possibly certifiably insane _instructors_ – he shifted closer, taking a small measure of amusement from the almost invisible flinch from the other man. There was only one solution to ending this fiasco, and that was getting it over with as soon as possible.

"Maybe if you _were _more like the General, you'd elicit the right _response_." He was tired, and he was hungry, and he just wanted this to be _over._ If that meant playing along with these ridiculous exercises, then he would damn well play along. But hell if he would roll over for Leon. "If you want me to _react_ you'll have to be far more…assertive."

From the corner of his eye he caught Tifa gaping for a moment before breaking into a grin. "…Leon, I think that was a challenge."

Leon stepped back. "…I think he's ready."

Cloud's mouth twitched into a smirk. No, he was nowhere near ready to face being the General's puppet, much less carry on a conversation with the man beyond base-related succinct responses. But he wasn't going to be the test subject _here_ any longer either. He'd deal with trying to be a proper escort and not look like a social reject when the time came. All he had to do was hope Sephiroth's hands didn't wander too far.


	6. Chapter Six: Erg

**Chapter Six: Erg**

Someone once said, "A dream is a wish your heart makes."

Cloud dreamt of fire and pain. He dreamt of black shadows with glowing eyes and a demon's wing, awkward and barbaric, jutting from his flesh. On good nights, he dreamt of parasitic aliens and giant monsters sent by the planet to kill him.

If he ever met that person, he'd light them on fire. That was his interpretation of it at least. Hey for all he knew, the dream that he wished would come true.

If life was made of dreams – the dreams young people were supposed to have, filled with light and happily-ever-after - he was quite certain he wouldn't be being pushed into a low dark car, dressed up in a penguin suit and ready to be carted off for later usage. Then again, maybe this was someone else's dream coming true, and he was just a puppet acting out their visions.

Was this Sephiroth's dream?

He was also pretty sure he'd never worn a suit before in his life, and he couldn't help loosening the noose around his neck, even knowing they would reprimand him for it.

When Sephiroth slid in next to him, he couldn't help shrinking closer to the window, the last of his pride hoping quite forcefully that the other man didn't notice.

Of course he didn't.

Cloud didn't even know why he had thought the General would even acknowledge his presence. He was sitting quite calmly, adjusting his inseparable gloves as the car pulled away, and straightening his tie. The man gave no indication at all that he was even sharing a vehicle, let alone with an ex-soldier coerced into being his…what was the word Tifa had used? Oh yes, escort.

The General's escort wasn't important enough to be acknowledged.

Neither was the driver, apparently, but it seemed like the man was well used to that kind of treatment.

The ride passed slowly; Cloud staring fixedly out the window at the dark buildings passing, the General still calm and composed, ignoring the world as though it was second nature. Every minute that passed had him falling deeper into the mindset that this was quite possibly the worst idea – predicament – situation they could have thought up. He had little to no social skills, he avoided speaking around large groups as often as possible, and he still wasn't able to control which memories would trigger his blackouts.

He could only see this ending in fiasco. Even that was being lenient. He was becoming more partial to 'flaming slag heap' with each reassessment.

The building they eventually pulled alongside was unlike any Cloud could remember seeing. Granted, the main structural base was nothing more than a very tall stone building with column details and basic windows. But recent additions to the old building made it...unique.

Neon lights hung from surrounding buildings, that one advertising a bar, another three hotels. He was quite sure the one down the street – the one with the giant diamond shaped light blazing in the night air – that had to be a casino.

This building proclaimed a giant star in glowing green lights under what looked like a golden rainbow. Golden rainbow…was that even possible? He shook his head quickly, hoping just a little that the action might jostle his thoughts back into some semblance of normalcy. No such luck. His eyes fell on the fountain made of neon lights in front of the door, ringed in by two sets of stone stairs. Who made neon fountains?

And that flickering…his gaze travelled up, landing on the skyscraper's roof. At least, he thought it was the roof. It was rather hard to tell where the roof began, the entire thing covered in what looked like giant screens. They ranged from a few feet to a few metres all piled together…but for some reason all they showed was static.

It was then that he realized the majority of light in the area came from the grey and white squares flickering incandescently above. It was creepy. It was foreboding. It was another reason why Cloud felt that at this point turning around and leaving was certainly the best option.

He very nearly did, too.

If the General hadn't gripped him firmly be the elbow and began stalking resolutely towards the stairs.

"You know no one. You will refer to me as Sephiroth, not the General." The orders broke the silence that had been maintained so well until that moment, uttering the notions that had already been drilled into his head from Tifa and Leon's intervention. "Keep your eyes open."

As far as he was concerned, Sephiroth's job was 'hush hush' and far more important than his little escort needed to know.

Sephiroth neither waited for, nor expected a response, and Cloud offered none as they passed by the doorman, crossed the foyer and stepped into the elevators.

It was mildly surprising that the elevator was as small as it was, but then it only confirmed his suspicion that this place was nothing more than refurbished offices decades old. It was a skyscraper of memories, even with its new coat of paint.

He found it rather ironic.

Each floor let out a passing chime as they passed. Fourth.

Fifth.

Cloud tensed as there was movement, his hands darting to snatch at the man, his mind snapping to defence mode. He found himself restrained. He couldn't fight them – what…

His eyes met the General's in angry confusion. The General…Sephiroth…well this wasn't good.

It was the same thing that Leon had done. He could see that now. The other man had mimicked perfectly the angle of attack and the distance he would have in which to react. Only unlike the simulation – the failed attempt at one – here he hadn't moved fast enough.

No. Cloud had been right.

Leon was nothing compared to the General. It wasn't that Cloud had been any slower; Sephiroth was faster.

He'd have to tell Tifa she'd been wrong.

But he didn't understand, looking up at the General, wrists pinned above his head with a single gloved hand. They were in an elevator with no audience, why would he do this now? What were they playing at? To make a point? The rest of the team would already be in position, why -

Was the hand at his neck unbuttoning…?

"What are you –"

He was silenced quite abruptly by the forced pressure of the other man's lips against his, his head knocking rather painfully against the wall. He supposed that this was what many would call a kiss, but really, he'd always thought that sort of thing was mutually agreed to by both parties involved.

And his hands were still held quite firmly in place, the General's free hand loosening the blonde's tie further.

Was this his function for the evening?

The moment he was allowed to breathe again, whatever air he had gained was once again ripped from him when he felt teeth against his neck.

That wasn't a gasp. It was a manly grunt.

Of pain.

Dimly in his mind he realised what this meant. The General was marking him. His puppet.

"Preparing you."

Oh.

Wait, what?

_Thirteenth. _

There was the metallic chime as the doors opened, and damn it, if he wasn't red before, he sure as hell was now. Shirt half pulled out, top few buttons undone…tie hanging dejectedly. He could still feel the tingling pulse at his neck which he was sure was well on its way to forming a sizeable bruise.

The swollen lips and need for air weren't helping the matter.

Or the half amused, half shocked faces of the other inhabitants of the thirteenth floor.

He caught a glimpse of Tifa snickering behind a hand and the raised brow of Leon in the distance. Yuffie, decked out in a white dress shirt and fitted black vest – He had to admit he was somewhat surprised to know she knew what buttons were - gave him a thumbs up and a grin before sweeping away to offer a tray of liquor.

Sephiroth said nothing, smirking as he straightened his immaculate tie and stepped from the elevator.

…

"Hey Squall, eyes on me." Tifa none too gently pulled the dark haired man around to face her, a frown tugging at her lips. "You haven't stopped staring since they arrived."

Funny. She tactfully ignored the fact that he had switched some time ago to hard liquor, _and_ the fact that he'd already had four glasses; the fifth cradled close as his eyes swept the room – hey, she was right, they always did return to the same spot. But of all the things she could have chastised him for, it had to be that. Was a man not allowed to stare anymore?

"I don't know what you're talking about." Slick. He growled at the sarcastic voice in his head.

"Oh I'm sure you don't." Was the equally ambiguous response as she gripped him firmly by the elbow and escorted him away from their position at the bar. He caught Selphie casting them a concerned glance, but he waved it off. If Tifa wanted to spend this time lecturing him, there was little he could do now. Above all, he would avoid making a scene. Telling that insufferable woman to do the same though was like asking a grat not to ooze as it died.

"What do you think you're doing?" she pulled him closer, her back resting against the wall, hand firmly planted on her hips. Well, at least she'd chosen an area that was reasonably dark.

Wasn't giving him the option of looking at anything other than her or a wall though. Bitch. He had to give her credit though, she knew what she was doing – he just had issues when she turned her skills against _him_.

He didn't doubt that she knew exactly what he would have done if left alone.

"Surveying the crowd; keeping my eyes open."

She smirked. Oh good, she was still amused. That at least meant it was unlikely that she'd run his ear off about his -- "More like surveying a blond. Enjoy the party, converse a little more. You're usually quiet, but I've never seen you this silent and brooding in public."

She wanted him to talk to people? Wait. She thought he was watching Cloud? "Whatever"

"We're here to do something important, okay? I know Rinoa's news was a little bit of a shock to you, but you can't let that af-"

"How do –" Yuffie. She had taken four hours for off-base leave yesterday afternoon after the meeting. After he had mentioned that she was back in town. Damn it. He _knew_ that would happen. He had known and _still_ he had said something. He could see Tifa smiling hesitantly, slouching further back against the wall at the same time.

Meddling little no good snooping…

"Lucky guess?"

His arms pinned her against the wall. "When we get out of here, I'm going to –"

"-- Lurker at eight o'clock." She said suddenly, the tenseness in her body disappearing as she moved a little closer.

"How close?"

"Eight…seven…he has a friend…six…"

Leon moved in, pressing himself firmly against her and capturing her lips. Did she really have to shift like that?

_Four….three…_

"Mr. Loire?"

He stepped back slowly, giving Tifa a wink. He had to admit, she was a wonderful actress; still flushed and slightly breathless against the wall. She grinned.

Even if she _did_ have a habit of meddling in the affairs of others. He shot Yuffie a glare at the bar, feeling slightly better at seeing her grin falter. Good, she knew she was in deep shit after this was over.

"And you might be?"

The man was short. He'd wager no taller than five, five and a half feet tall. Grey - no, was that…periwinkle?- hair that fell in his eyes, and he was watching them with those eyes that seemed to know too much. His companion looked like he didn't know enough. But then he also looked like a blond punk that had been stuffed into a suit, so that wasn't saying much.

For some reason, of the two, Leon was more concerned with the blond. It was when you underestimated someone that things turned around and bit you in the ass. Then again, it could also have been the fact that he had issues with blond men.

"Zexion. And my…associate, Demyx." Funny, only Demyx extended a hand. When he met with Leon's cold stare however, it dropped. "I didn't expect to see you here…Laguna couldn't spare the time to drop by himself?"

"He's a busy man. Doesn't have much time for anything." He grated out, sliding an arm around Tifa's waist mechanically. "Are you insinuating that I shouldn't be here?"

"_Darling_, I'm sure he didn't mean anything of the sort." He was careful not to flinch when he felt the painful pinch against his spine. A warning. He had a feeling he wouldn't make it out of this night with out a few more of her marks across his skin.

"Of course. It's always a pleasure to have the opportunity to converse with a man such as yourself. If your lovely company doesn't mind, that is?"

Oh this certainly would not end well. Small talk was never his forte, and this man's was loaded. Tifa shot him a worried look. What, he couldn't take care of himself now? He downed his drink.

"Not at all." Tifa still looked concerned as she caught the small nod from him, but if she used the moment right, it could very well end in gain. Especially if that glint of metal and red meant what he thought it did. To get a chance to speak with her and Eric here of all places…

And in Zexion's care, somehow he found himself manoeuvred through the other guests and positioned directly across from his superior and his blond toy.

"Enjoying the party thus far, Mr. Loire?" A young man with white hair said casually from one of the red sofas, an arm draped over Riku's shoulders. White hair…Xehanort? Had to be. He had changed since the last time they had met, but it wasn't as though white hair on young men was all that common a feature. Except for Sephiroth. And Riku. And Kuja. And Kadaj, Loz and Yazoo. Zexion's hair was pretty close. Cecil…Bartz, Klauser…oh yes, Setzer. Alright, maybe a few had it.

But Xehanort would never have allowed anyone to touch Riku, and Sephiroth would have wasted time with no one else.

They'd have to have Matron update their photo stocks.

Speaking of Sephiroth, he didn't seem altogether pleased from where he sat. Though it was hard to tell given that the only indication was a slight inclination of a brow and the barest tightening of his jaw. Still, he knew the man well enough to realize being here wasn't in his favour.

And they were all looking at him expectantly, as though he was the feature at some chintzy bar ready to perform. He wouldn't argue that he probably emitted a wonderful aroma of liquor. If they thought that meant he would jump at their command, though, they would be sorely disappointed.

"They certainly keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity." He responded dryly, making sure to monitor his eye movement. Staring too long was suspicious. Avoiding looking at something for too long was suspicious. He really shouldn't have had that last drink.

Well, at least they seemed to accept that response as acceptable as they watched him. Blondie was watching him too.

Could this night get any better?

Probably once Strife realized where that hand was headed.

…

"So this is the man you were talking about."

When he had first seen him, he could have sworn the man who spoke was a woman. What kind of man had pink hair? Yeah, it was an understated murky pink in these lights, but still. He still looked dangerous beneath it though, so Cloud was glad there was a good distance and a few bodies between.

They'd been introduced when he'd first been positioned; sandwiched between an eye-patched and scarred man who looked more than a little trigger happy, and the silent Sephiroth who exuded boredom and arrogance with every move. Marluxia?

Yes. But when did Leon get here? Wasn't he supposed to be gathering information?

Don't stare. Don't stare. But he looked a little…off.

The man that the others had been talking about was the son of an actor, the largest shareholder in almost every publishing company in this country and beyond, and a man who held a remarkable amount of political sway. There was even mention of him being related to Galbadia's singing sweetheart, Julia Heartilly. Or was that _soon_ to be related? Not a single mention of his military career, unless you counted General Caraway as a relation. Couldn't possibly have been Leonhart.

…Was that the alias he was using? Seemed a little far fetched to give him that many connections. He made note to point out the ridiculousness of their cover stor—

His body froze, the hand working its way up his thigh tightening on the tense muscles, a thumb stroking almost idly. Sephiroth. That was Sephiroth's hand. He couldn't break it. He couldn't react to it.

So he silently clenched his jaw, closed his eyes and pushed back against the couch, willing his mind to ignore it. Ignore it. Just – the soft grunt escaped completely unbidden when the hand got a little too friendly.

Damn it. Leon was staring at him now. No, they _all_ were staring at him now, he realized as his eyes darted quickly from face to face.

More than half of the men present were watching him in a manner that was not at all reassuring, and he felt the definite heat rising to his face. The sole woman – blonde - looked absolutely murderous. Cloud wanted to get out of here. He was trapped here, surrounded by eyes and judgements and scrutiny and _people_. This was his first time on the field, one of few times surrounded by more than a handful of onlookers, and this was what they were throwing at him?

"I…I'll be back." He had to make an escape. _Now_. If only for a short time. He couldn't snap here, there was too much at stake. Bathroom. Bathroom was good.

But before he could make it to the edge of the ring of couches – before he could even make it more than to his feet – he felt a large gloved hand at the back of his neck, dragging him down to meet a smirking mouth.

"Don't be long."

Cloud didn't flee. He _walked with purpose_, trying to ignore the chuckling from behind him without succumbing to the urge to maim them all.

…

Frankly, the blond was holding up far better than he had imagined. Under Sephiroth's 'care', most needed far more time to adjust to the demands to not only their ego, but the sheer weight of _mental_ demands. Leon had actually counted on having to drug the man and take him home under the guise of drunken stupor; the chemicals sitting snugly in both his and Sephiroth's pockets. The girls on staff probably had enough on hand to take down five wendigos. Yes, they had to watch out for Riku and Sora's unfavourable reactions as well, but it was an unspoken agreement that the boys knew enough to monitor themselves. They rarely needed to subdue them, and even less of late.

Either this man's pride was more flexible than he thought, or it was a better façade than he gave Strife credit for. If the latter, he hoped the man wouldn't come out of this too damaged; he showed promise.

God, he was becoming like _him._

"Tragic, what happened to your last consort." Xehanort's fingers were weaving through Riku's hair, and Leon was glad to note that Riku at least showed no outward discomfort at the gesture. He sat comfortably relaxed against the older man like the perfect doll. Even if his eyes _were_ a little glassy. The boy had once, in one of his rare moments of openness, explained that it was his defence mechanism; thinking of warm sand and blue waves. Of a tree that grew stars.

They all had their ways to deal with strain.

"To think that he jumped…" Larxene smirked her eyes dancing over Leon even as she spoke to Sephiroth.

"It was unfortunate." The grey-haired man said in a tone that made clear that he didn't care for the subject in the least. "However, matters have turned in my favour, it seems."

Tidus didn't deserve this. No one deserved to be spoken of in such a manner. Past tense. So definite. So cold. If the blond broke like that, would they talk about him in the same way?

And he was pretty damn sure he could use another drink. There was nothing here that could be learned from his presence; Sephiroth was far more adept at prying information from these men, and with Riku as a distraction, Xehanort would be feeling far more confident. Especially if Cloud's new face was temporarily absent.

It was time to extract himself.

…

Well, they hadn't skimped on the refurbishing of the men's room at least, regardless of how old the original facilities were.

The room was large – larger than he had thought a men's room would be, though if this floor was accustomed to hosting parties, it was no real wonder. It was also remarkably clean, which really was the greater of surprises. Four cubicles were built into the back wall, each resembling more closely a closet. Wood slated doors, brass handles. Eight urinals on the left wall, six sinks to the right. A large window separated the urinals into sets of four.

Dead centre sat a couch, two plush lounge chairs and a glass coffee table.

What for, he had no idea. Well, maybe a bit of an idea. But what reason would a _logical_ man of stature need to spend extended periods in the bathroom? He quelled the voice that quickly – and eagerly, the traitor – supplied an answer. That was not the sort of thing that would be helpful in a situation like this.

Take it calmly, think it over.

Don't sit down.

He found himself at one of the sinks - the second from the left, if it mattered – turning on the hot water and watching it run; wondering with no real purpose how long it would take for the water to run cold. Exactly how much water did this building have stored?

Okay, he was doing well. At least he was alone; he'd made sure of that when he'd first entered. But the night wasn't over yet, and he could only hide for so long in the washroom before someone would come looking for him; no doubt one of the others well before Sephiroth himself would bother.

He had to stop reacting. Had to shut down his responses, his senses. Trust that these people would see him through this in one piece. Trust Sephiroth.

How did Riku do it?

"Tifa said you'd run in here." Leon. Why hadn't he locked the door? "She was going to come in after you herself. Thank God she had enough sense not to."

"I didn't _run_ anywhere." Cloud noticed that Leon was taking precaution to avoid the couch just as he had. He also pondered the pros and cons of taking the man off-guard and pushing him onto it, just to see the look on his face. Cons won out in the end; wouldn't want to give him the wrong impression, after all.

That drink in his hand…was he tilting? No, that was his imagination. Had to be. "No, it looked more like a scamper from where I sat."

"Oh fuck you."

The dark-haired man grunted as he took a drink, making his way to lean against the row of sinks. The liquid may have been clear, but Cloud was certain it was hardly water.

"You come here to finish what he started? Where's the audience, Leon?"

"Why, do you need help?"

"Are you offering?"

"You alone?"

"No, me and my crew of eco-terrorists are in the middle of plotting a dynamic return." Steam was still rising from the sink. He had to admit, though, he liked the blanket of noise it provided. Let him concentrate a little more on the white noise and a lot less on Mr. Leonhart. Leonhart…Loire? Didn't really matter in the end, he supposed.

"Useful, those. Doesn't change the fact that you can't hide out –"

Cloud's hand caught the counter on reflex as the building shuddered violently, the other covering his coughs from the plaster falling from the ceiling. Leon was slightly less graceful – which compounded Cloud's belief that he had drank far too much that night – but still managed to retain his balance, even as his drink crashed to the floor.

"What the hell was that?"

"Sounded like an explosion." Said Captain Obvious, quickly answering the irritating jingle of a cell phone. "Tifa?"

Cloud made his way to the window, craning to see as much of the building as he could. There were sparks coming from around the corner of the building and – the giant screens were breaking apart, just the edges visible from his position, the largest crashing down to the pavement thirteen stories below. That couldn't be a good sign. If the building was falling apart, would he end up dying in a bathroom? He found it rather funny, in a tragically depressing sort of way.

"We have to get out. Sephiroth and his contacts have already taken the stairs with the others." Leon was beside him then, pulling him from the window. We can leave through the window; there should be a ledge and a fire escape to the right."

"And then to the roof where we stage a daring bid for freedom?"

"No, then to Griever parked around the corner." He responded, hands searching the window for a means to open it. The building was falling apart and he was still trying to open it the polite way?

"Move."

In all fairness, he should have given the dark-haired man more time to get out of the way; taken into account his slowed reflexes and general misjudgement on the speed that a human can travel at. As a result, Leon tripped over himself as the coffee table passed by his shoulder, landing rather hard on his side as the glass shattered.

"Window's open."


	7. Chapter Seven: Entreat

**Chapter Seven: Entreat**

"Fancy meeting a boy like _you_ in a place like_ this_."

Roxas snorted, resolutely refusing to look at the man who approached. That had to be the absolute _worst_ pick-up line he'd ever heard. Granted, he hadn't heard many pick-up lines, and the majority of those had been from the same man…and were often also remarkably bad. He didn't _need_ to look to know that the man's hair was an alarming shade of red, or that the triangle shaped markings on his cheeks were still incredibly out of place on his grinning face. It was hard to look at a grinning man with permanent tears. Who tattoos their face, anyway?

He had the kind of face that would photograph well.

"And who are you again?" He responded disinterestedly, trying not to judge the lighting in the room against apertures. Yes, he may have been quite well informed on the red-haired man – Matron's file was extensive on this individual – but that didn't mean he was going to give him the pleasure of showing that he remembered his name. Roxas knew that Sora was counting on him to get the information the others wanted. He knew that even the silver-haired boy was doing his part, and damned if he let that arrogant bastard show him up.

Roxas tried not to smile when he saw the brief aghast shock on the other's face. "Axel. A-X-E-L. Got it –"

"An entire party," Roxas cut him off cleanly, arms folded stubbornly before him, "filled with gallons of free liquor and women, and you choose to spend time over here in the shadows."

"Couldn't pass up the chance to convince you to come back with me." The man winked as Roxas rolled his eyes. "Plus I stocked up on booze first. Want some?"

He eyed the proffered drink warily, the pink umbrella drifting slightly with the gesture. "You honestly think I'd accept a drink from you."

"What, it's not like I would drug my own drink."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Well, if it meant that you'd drag me back to your place, I might consider it next time. Come on, lighten up."

"Under-aged, in case you didn't notice."

"Oh, and like that blonde girl at the bar isn't? She may have fooled her boss, but there's no way she's over 16." Namine. That's right. Kairi was too recognizable here; of course they'd use Namine. What if she messed up? What if they found her as Kairi? Axel was already suspicious, wasn't he? If that happened, they'd all be exposed. What if –

"Don't worry, Kid. I won't rat on your girlfriend." Axel snorted, plucking the paper umbrella from his drink and sticking it in Roxas' hair. He had always found it unnerving in Axel's presence just how easily the other read him sometimes. "Not like this crowd cares much about age, if Sephiroth's new toy is any indication."

"She's not my girlfriend." He muttered indignantly. "And Cloud's older than me."

"Cloud? Oh, the spiky blond? Funny, I don't think Seph ever mentioned he had a name." Axel reached out and ruffled Roxas' hair, earning a manly squawk of protest. "You been chatting it up with him? Didn't look like much of a talker."

Speaking of…was that Strife high-tailing it to the bathroom?

Of all places, why would he run there? Roxas puzzled silently. Tidus used to hide behind the bar.

Oh wait, Axel was still talking.

"…so there I was with a rake, three bottles of elixir and a wooden puppet in a ring of fire…"

Roxas suddenly remembered why he had opted to tune him out. But it could be important, he realized. He was responsible to find out everything he could – even if it meant listening to a night's worth of Axel's stories.

But then again, they had assured him that Axel had already offered himself, however vaguely, to their service. If he could keep the conversation on track, it would go that much faster, right? They were relatively secluded…what were the chances that anyone here would know Matron?

He wished they had let him bring his camera. At least then he had something to hold onto. "Axel. Edea's approached you, hasn't she? You said you'd help her, right?"

Axel paused in his story, quickly glancing about the room before pulling Roxas after him, leering over his shoulder. "Why _yes_ Roxas, I would _love_ to take this elsewhere. Your place or mine?"

"Whaa?" It was all Roxas could do to keep his feet as the man weaved through people on his way to…the stairwell? He nearly tripped over a red-haired woman in a wheelchair. Was she talking to Tifa? But there was no time to think about it as suddenly the party was cut off by the slamming of the stair door.

Suddenly it was silent, as though that one door blocked out even the loudest of shrilled laughter from the party beyond.

"Roxas, you know I love you, but if you're not more careful with what you say, we're all going to be in deep shit." Roxas glared at Axel. It was rather difficult for him to be intimidating when Axel had a good foot of height on him; even more so when the man had him pinned to the backside of the door.

"Let me go."

"Not yet."

"Axel, if you don't let me go now, I won't be held responsible for my actions." Really, Roxas wasn't quite sure what he would do if he didn't, but it didn't stop him from trying. Sora had always been the better fighter, loathe as he was to admit, and to let Sora out now would hardly be wise. He wasn't even sure if Axel knew about Sora, or if he did, what his reaction would be.

"Look, you're going to listen to me right now or I'm going to drag you home with me and you can listen there." He growled, leaning closer. "I agreed to aid your little witch, and to supply her with what I can. But first and foremost, I agreed so that I could see you. So I _am_ going to see you. And I will see _only_ you. But I don't think you understand what that means."

"Excuse me?" God, the lighting was hitting him just so…Roxas closed his eyes. Now was not the time to think about his profile.

"They're going to notice if I just stop in the middle of a place like that and start having a serious conversation, Kid. You've got to think. I have a reputation. An expected method of going about things. Noticeable personality traits."

"So what, we're going to have an information exchange in a dingy stairwell while they think you're molesting an under-aged boy?"

"No." Axel scoffed. "We're going to have an 'information exchange' at the Golden Saucer where I will own your ass at every game available and in the process convince you that you belong with me."

"You know, you're not supposed to voice dastardly plans to the person you're trying to deceive."

"Just thought I'd be gentlemanly and give you fair warning that in a very short amount of time you'll be under me of your own free will."

"Like hell I'd bottom."

"That's the spirit. We'll just see when the time comes."

"Wait, I meant…dammit Axel!" It was a very poorly timed coincidence that at that moment the building shuddered violently in protest, and the doors flew open with a stream of people evacuating the thirteenth floor. Poor in Roxas' eyes, that is; Axel was quite content that Roxas had fallen into his arms, and made it known as he swept the boy off his feet and down the stairs with the rest of the guests.

…

People say that things are often funnier in retrospect. That hardly comforted Cloud as he and Leon had made their way down the thirteen flights of rusted iron fire escape. In fact, he couldn't even see how this night would be even remotely humorous. Well, maybe in that hysterical verge-of-breakdown sort of way.

His first assignment had ended in a building falling apart around him, being groped by his commanding officer for the amusement of business elites and attempting to get his inebriated comrade down a deathtrap. At this point due far more to the fact that only Leon knew what this Griever looked like, and that it was far easier to get the keys from him without having to fish around in a corpse's pockets than any feelings of camaraderie.

Oh he was all for teamwork. He just liked being alive at the end of it.

But being the gentleman that he was, he went down the shaking, shifting, sliding exit first, testing the way. Against his better judgement after making sure of the footing, he would wait; would watch Leon's footing on the frail looking ladders and make sure he got down without falling to his death.

But by Gods, when they reached the ground _he_ was driving.

True, he couldn't remember if he knew how to drive, but he certainly trusted himself far more than he trusted a sloshed and possibly emotionally strained mercenary. Men with emotions should never be trusted to act logically.

Of course everything he did in helping the man had to be remarkably subtle. He knew the man well enough now to suspect that any sort of aid on his part would not be well received. Even if half of the hurried steps down the ladder rungs only connected thanks to the blond's hasty replacement of the other's foot.

It made him wonder just how quickly Leon had downed his last few drinks for it only to be hitting him so hard now. No, maybe he was just incredibly good at hiding it on even footing.

Over his shoulder he could see a crowd gathering at the front of the building, leaving a good expanse of space that was no doubt an unspoken danger zone. He made sure to avoid the mangled wreckage of coffee table as he reached the ground. Leon was less fortunate as he stumbled on a rather large chunk of shattered glass, and Cloud snorted as the other man pushed off his steadying arm once he had gained his footing.

If he wanted to wait until he fell again to shrug off his pride, so be it.

"Someone will notice us here, and I doubt you'd be very convincing with a cover now. Where's your transport?' Cloud started walking away from the building's fascinating shedding front. Were there any screens left to fall?

His feet were getting drenched. A glance up showed a ruptured pipe showering the alleyway. The water was cold.

"And the night just keeps on getting better." He muttered darkly. And Leon was just standing there looking mildly shell-shocked as a screen crashed down.

"Move it, Leonhart." They would first remove themselves from the scene. From there, the next order would be to make contact with the rest of their operatives to determine a location and course of action. No doubt that brief exchange with Tifa would need to be followed up on anyways, or at the very least check in so they weren't looking for their bodies. Did he need to be seen leaving with Sephiroth, or had the man already left the commotion?

For a leader, Leon certainly seemed to take a lengthy time to decide on taking solid action. He made up the other's mind by catching his arm and dragging him after, sloshing merrily through the small forming lake.

Survival.

Whoever set off that explosion could still be around. Arriving authorities would want answers, and spending time in a police station really didn't seem all that appealing. If there was anything Cloud was good at, it was surviving.

Leon's phone was ringing again, and he was fumbling to get it. Without breaking stride, Cloud had snatched it from his hands and flipped it open.

"Yeah?"

There was a weighted silence for a moment on the other end before a low smooth voice took over. "…why do you have Squall's phone?"

He would know that voice anywhere. Leon was levelling a death glare at the blond as they were moving. Between watching where his feet were landing, of course.

"That's not an issue right now, Sir." Cloud returned the glare and made sure to keep a good distance from him. "Leon assures me that we are near his transportation. What are your orders at this time?"

"…Return to base. Check in with Gainsborough before turning in."

"Yes Sir."

"Here." Leon jerked Cloud to a stop and the blond tossed back his phone. "Get on."

'On' referred to a sleek chrome motorcycle with black detailing. There was a rather prominent etching on the front left; a rearing winged lion. Why was that familiar…oh right. That necklace…and ring.

"That's Griever?"

"You sound like it should be something else." Leon said dryly. "What would you prefer, a town car? Chocobo? Giant metal spider?

"You accessorize far too much. You name your guns that too?" He snorted, holding out a hand expectantly.

"…What." Leon grabbed his helmet from the side bag, tossing Cloud the spare. "Let's go."

"I'm driving."

"Like hell you are." He knew this would happen. Damn it, the man was in no condition to be trusted with anything that could kill them, and yet he still held on futilely to his pride. Well they weren't going to just sit around all night.

"Fuck Leon. I just told the General that we would make it back tonight. Either I drive, or we use that bloody phone of yours to call in your 'town car'. Or giant metal spider, if you think they'll rent one out at this time of night."

They stood like that for longer than Cloud thought he had the patience for. There was a moment wherein Cloud weighed the pros and cons of knocking him unconscious and figuring out how to transport him back from there. Thankfully, the scarred man tossed over the ignition keys around the point where Cloud was searching for a reliable means to keep the man on the bike while unconscious.

"You even know how to ride?" Leon grunted as Cloud swung himself onto Griever.

The blond patted the seat behind him with a smirk. "If you hold on, I promise to get you back in one piece before your mother even knows."

"Oh fuck you." He sat down heavily, arms mechanically wrapping around the blond in his bout of stubborn pride.

And this bike clearly wasn't intended to carry two people on a regular basis, much less two grown males. Never mind Cloud's smaller stature. No doubt the brunet used the second seat to cruise the town with young girls. Yuffie sized. He wouldn't put it past him.

Well, if he wasn't positive that Leon was intoxicated, this would have been a far more awkward position. But as it was, he loosened his tie, revved the engine and kicked off into the night.

For some reason, the feel of the helmet pressing against his skull felt strange and foreign, even as the bike felt right beneath him. Even more unfamiliar were the arms holding like bars of steel and the warmth at his back.

Knowing the way back seemed easier from memory than he had expected, and –

_Glowing green eyes were staring at him…pain. His heart? His heart was leaking. Leaking green?_

The bike swerved as one of Cloud's hands shot up to clutch his head, cool flat fibreglass meeting his bare hands. Had to get it off. Get it _off_. It wrenched clear with one motion, his neck crying in protest, Leon shouting in alarm as the blond threw it from the moving vehicle.

His head was throbbing, his vision swimming dangerously.

_Fire. It had to be leaking fire. Why else was everything burning? And those eyes…those eyes were sane. Flash of light. Sound? Flash of sound. A gunshot. Two. Tifa?_

"_Cloud!"_ the steel bars tightened, even as the wind caught the rest of his words. Cloud needed to breathe.

Nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong. Maybe if he repeated his mantra enough Leon would believe him. Maybe he'd believe himself. He was nothing if not good at deluding himself. Leon was the incompetent one. Leon was the one who couldn't be trusted. Damned if he stopped.

So rather than pull over and take a moment – a moment that no doubt would have included another bout of heated debate and wasted time – he ignored the voice that was already mostly lost in the wind. They were almost back anyhow.

Maybe he could convince Leon the helmet had been too restricting -- was ruining his hair. Was…Cloud cursed silently. At the very least he'd owe the scarred man a new one.

Even before he had pulled the motorbike to a stop, he could see the form of the curtain-rod wielding nurse waiting for them at the doors to the medical building. She looked worried, if not fully distressed.

"Strife, help me get Leon to a cot." She rushed to the bike, attempting to pull one of Leon's arms away.

Surprisingly, it took a joint effort from her and the blond to do so, which was remarkably difficult from his angle. Really, if Leon wanted his arms around him that much, all he had to do was ask.

…actually, Cloud wasn't quite certain what he'd do if the brunet did. Better to think about that later. Or not.

"The General said that there was a chance that Leon had become compromised. I'm inclined to agree." Her hand gripped his shoulder tightly, the other forcing the brunet to look at her. "Leon - Squall. Come on. You probably feel pretty heavy right about now, but if we can get you inside I can fix that."

Cloud dismounted quickly, pulling off the other's helmet. It looked like he was consciously trying not to let his head loll. Either that, or to not lose the contents of his stomach. "What the hell happened? He was fine half an hour ago. Well, not like yesterday, but he'd been drinking and –"

"Just help me get him inside." The woman – Gainsborough - was ignoring him, trying to position herself under Leon's arm so that his weight wouldn't pull her down once he was off the motorcycle. It was probably a futile effort on her part, but she looked damned determined in her task.

"Move." Cloud pulled her aside, swinging Leon over his shoulder in one motion. When he straightened, she stood blinking at him for a brief moment before hurrying to hold the door open for him.

If it was possible, it seemed as though the small forest of her domain had grown in three days, now filling spots he could have sworn had lain empty just days before. She had kept the space around the beds clear though, for which he was grateful. Cloud found himself surprised to see that the cots were kept a pristine white. For reasons beyond him, he had thought that she would have changed the sheets into something more…homey? She was an odd girl, to be sure.

And after the scarred man had been placed on the stark white sheets, Cloud was hit with just how out of place he looked there. For some reason, it didn't seem right for this man to exist in an infirmary.

"Just what happened?" The other man had broken into a sweat, and Gainsborough was quickly relieving him of his suit's coat and vest. His shoes landed with distinct thuds across the room.

"Sit down." She was checking his temperature, waving the blond off to the adjacent cot as she moved to test Leon's pupil dilation. "Well, it looks like the General was only partially right in his assessment of what he ingested, which is a good sign at least. The General was made aware that someone at the party spiked a few of the drinks, Leon's included. As of yet he's not sure what the intent was. He should be fine with a few days bed rest, though."

"I'm going to administer some sedatives for him to bypass the substance's affects on his muscle tissue, so hopefully he'll be able to get a peaceful sleep tonight." Gainsborough was watching Cloud carefully now. "I think you should get some rest too. It's not easy working with the General, especially not when you're called to do so on such short notice."

From his seat on the cot, the ground beneath his feet seemed to become increasingly interesting. Was that linoleum tiling? It certainly had more give than concrete, but it looked more solid than tile. They all knew what his function had been, and probably _would_ be in all future missions wherein he was paired with the General. Of course they would know. Had he really thought they wouldn't?

What type of wishful thinking would make him think that only Tifa and Leon would know?

"I want you to know that I'm here in case anything…if you need anything."

"What, you think I can't take care of myself?" His hackles shouldn't have been rising. She was trying to help.

"I think that the General has a way of playing with people that adds undue stress upon those under him. We have yet to determine if working with him will have a severe adverse affect on _you_ but frankly I'd rather prevent it early than wait until you decide to jump out a plane."

He averted his eyes as the needle she had produced pierced the other man's arm, hands clenching in the sheets. He hated seeing weakness. He hated seeing needles. He hated being around doctors, even ones as peculiar as this girl that smelled of growing things.

"You'll stay here until morning, Mr. Strife. At the very least, you'll be helpful in assisting with Leon should there be any unforeseen problems."

"I thought you said he should be fine."

"'Should' is the operative word. We can only assume that they wouldn't attempt to kill him without a more visible objective."

"You still haven't told me how he ended up like this."

"I'll wake you if I need you. Until then, get some rest." She smiled softly. "And Cloud…thank you for bringing him home safely."

…

He had been with someone else – the man with the infallible smile. He had been with his light, facing another so bright it shone darkness. Blindness. They had been blinded by trust; by faith.

There had been sound – unbearable sound, so loud it felt as though nothing in the world existed beyond that noise.

And then silence.

Two bodies had fallen. Three? No, more before that. The corpses piled on his shoulders, and he staggered as his chest bled fire.

Green-eyed fire.

It was near the mountains. In the mountains?

The smell of chemicals invaded his senses, and he reared awake, hands automatically searching for something – anything that could be used to hurt, defend, escape.

But it wasn't steel grating or rocky barren ground that met his bare fingers, but warm fabric and linen sheets.

"Good morning." A laughing voice said softly, and he opened his eyes to meet brown and a curtain of dark hair. Tifa? No…softer. More delicate. "Are you feeling better?"

Better? Had he been feeling worse?

His eyes lighted upon the dark form of Leon tucked safely in the neighbouring cot.

"Where is the nurse?"

"Aeris?" The dark-haired not-Tifa smiled. "Out. I said I'd take care of things while she was gone. I wanted to see Squall anyhow; it's why I came to visit, after all. Looks like my plans are always foiled, somehow."

"…Who are you?" He ran a hand through his tufted hair loosely, glad that the frantic surprise he had initially felt upon waking was coming under control. He didn't like the fact that he hadn't heard her come into the room, asleep or not.

"Oh! That's right, I haven't told you. The others have told me so much about you, even though it's only been…oh, not very long at all. Rinoa Heartily, at your service, Mr. Strife." She held out a hand enthusiastically. He took it gingerly, letting her vigorously pump his arm. "I used to co-ordinate with the team a few years ago, but since then I've had other priorities unfortunately."

"Heartily?" Why was that name familiar?

She made a soft sound of agreement as she moved forward, brushing Leon's bangs away from his face carefully. Her eyes seemed to linger on his scar.

He looked like he was sleeping peacefully now. Funny, he looked more open as he slept. There was a small jolt of satisfaction to know that even Leon couldn't keep his barriers up while unconscious. And if last night he truly was drugged, poisoned, hypnotized, _compromised_ – it meant the stoic bastard wasn't as impervious as he presented. Cloud wondered vaguely what the success rate of the team was.

"Aeris tells me that he just needs his rest," She was smiling again as she faced him. "I'd like some time with you though, Mr. Strife. I highly doubt that Squall would appreciate seeing me here when he wakes."

"Why's that?" Cloud couldn't help the dry note that seeped into his words. Why did Leon not like this woman? Well, wagering a guess, she knew too much if she was still referring to him as Squall. Then again, Leon didn't seem like the type to get on well with many people who pried, so it obviously didn't take much. She clearly wasn't a real fighter, and men like Leon valued strength above all else. Valued wit above all – no. _No. _That wasn't him. That man was dead. How? What the hell was happening to his memories?

"We all have our pasts, Mr. Strife, and you and I have only first met." Her smile had not left, but he could see that she was hiding behind it as she slid an arm through his, guiding him towards the door. "If you tell me your secrets, I'll tell you mine."

"I don't have any secrets." He said carefully, awkwardly sidestepping a large collie waiting outside.

"Where are you from?" The door to a large black car was opened for him by a large – very large- man who gestured for him to get in. The woman all but pushed him in, following after into the depths.

"I'm not allowed to leave the base without—" was she insane? A kidnapping of a complete stranger? What if he hurt her? Then again, her two escorts looked pretty dangerous themselves.

"I had Sephiroth and Edea sign the papers three hours ago." With a gesture, the large man in the passenger seat had produced a release form emblazoned with the General's precise scrawl and Matron's more sedate signature. "But you're avoiding my question. Kiros, home."

The car pulled away, and the doors locked with a final and ominous click.

And for some reason, the only image he had was of Leon lying unconscious in a garden.

"Where are you from?"

"I don't know."

"Think harder."

Think harder. Think harder? As if that always worked. So Cloud responded with the only thing he could think of. Besides the dark-haired laughter. "…Mountains. Near the mountains."

"City or town?" She pushed.

"…town."

"Well that doesn't narrow it down much."

"…I don't think it's there anymore."

"I'm sorry." She looked strange. What was that look? Pity? It's not like I lost anything; I can't even remember if I had anything to loose. And in an instant, it was gone, her smile back in place, hands clasped together eagerly. "Well what do you want me to answer then? A deal's a deal."

"Nothing."

"Come on, there has to be something you're curious about?"

Cloud admitted to himself that there were many questions he had. How did she know Leon? What was her function? How did she know what she did? What gave her the right to address his superiors so inferiorly? Where was she taking him? Had she ever killed anyone before? How did she get the large man in the front to tolerate a mangy dog on his lap?

"If you know the members of this team…do you know where Selphie Tilmitt got her trains?"

She blinked at him a moment. "That's it?"

"That's it." The woman looked like it was an odd question. Was it?

And then she laughed. Cloud blinked. And she laughed some more. "They made the right choice in you."

"What do you mean by that?" That girl had murder in her eyes that day. If he didn't find a replacement for it soon, he didn't doubt that his health was at risk.

"I made the trains."

Wait, what? "You did?"

"I did."


	8. Chapter Eight: Endurance

**Chapter Eight: Endurance**

"How're you feeling, Squall?"

The world was too bright. The world was too bright, and the disembodied voice was coming from the well placed fade in from white. The world was too bright, and if someone didn't remedy the situation, he was going to pile their bodies in front of the light source and lie in their shade.

Thankfully, the speaker seemed to sense this from the few half-muted groans he managed in his first wakeful moments and the light lessened. Halved. A few blinks told him it was thanks to the semi-opaque curtains that had been drawn by an oddly helpful Yuffie.

"What happened? I mean, I heard from the General, kinda, but that was more of a diluted over-heard him on the phone while he was talking to Matron behind a wall and…well I don't think I heard everything, so what happened?" She was sitting on his feet now, bouncing happily as he levelled a glare at her grinning face. "Are you really sick? Are you dying? Why did you disappear with Cloud? Was it good?"

It took him a moment to find his voice, and when he did, he didn't like it much. It sounded like he'd gotten too friendly with a cactuar and it had left its mark. "Water."

"The whole place was flooded! I got soaked, and I know I wasn't the only – oh. Oh right." She leapt off the bed and shoved a glass in his hand while he sat up slowly.

He watched her waiting eagerly as he drank, purposely taking his time; more to gather his thoughts than annoy her, but it came a close second. Funny, he couldn't remember much of last night. Which couldn't be a good sign. It never was, was it? And she said he'd disappeared with the blond. Speaking of…

"Where is Cloud?" And that shouldn't have been his first words. 'Inform the General I'm awake' or 'Go away and let me sleep' or even simpler 'Bugger off'. But no, he just had to go and ask about the bundle of death with a pretty face.

"Oh! Yeah, he slept with you last night –" She looked worried when he choked on the water, trying to pull the glass away from him. "…in the infirmary. Are you red?"

"Where is he now?" He was still wearing the suit from the night before, it seemed. Solid black pants, rumpled white shirt.

"Gods, I think you blushed. What did they do to you?" Yuffie seriously looked concerned now. Which was funny, wasn't it? He wasn't so cold and cut off from people that the thought of him being human was a cause for concern, was it? And she was feeling his forehead now.

"Yuffie…" He growled, one hand catching her wrist. Which she pulled away from easily…it wasn't supposed to be that easy. He realized that he was still remarkably weak, and she knew it.

"Relax, he's with Rinoa."

"Rinoa? She's here?"

"Was. They left in a car a few hours ago." Yuffie grinned, leaning over the bed. "I think she took him back to the house. Jealous?"

"Whatever. He's new at this, Yuffie. Whatever they have planned for him, he needs more training. Even Rinoa will see that."

"He saved _your _ass. From the looks of it, he had a better grip than you did. And on his first mission no less!" And her smile was gone. Yuffie, jabbed him in the forehead, and he fell back with an undignified grunt. It looked like now that she knew he wasn't dying, she wasn't going to hold back any longer. "I spoke to Tifa, _Leon_, you're supposed to be our big great team leader, and even she saw them spike your drink. Sephiroth was the one who called it in? Your only function this time was Cloud's back-up, and _he_ ended up dragging you home, so don't you dare say he needs more training."

How did he know this was coming. "He's only twenty-one."

"And I'm sixteen. Your point?"

"I had a few things on my mind." He muttered sullenly. "He still needs to adjust."

"Yeah. And you're supposed to be the professional mercenary." She crossed her arms huffily, turning away.

Yuffie was lecturing him, he realized. _Yuffie._ His day had officially plummeted to drastically low levels. And with that came the realization that if _Yuffie_ was lecturing him, what was yet to come from the General, from Matron, from Laguna, from _Rinoa_ was sure to kill him.

"When's the debriefing?"

"You've been out of it for half a day, Leon. You missed it."

"No one woke me?" Yes, he was in the infirmary, and yes, he didn't think he could stand on his own at this point, but it was the principle of the thing.

"Aeris told the General you needed your sleep. He's not as heartless as you think."

Well that was a good reason. That woman was terrifying when she had her mind set on something, and not even the General was impervious to her will. She rarely made demands for anything, but when she did, she expected to be obeyed.

Leon let his head fall back against the infirmary pillow with a thud, struck once more with exhaustion.

"You're supposed to rest for at least another eight hours, and beyond that should Aeris deem necessary." Yuffie crossed her arms smugly. "I'm to make sure that you do."

For a very brief moment he had the feeling that Cloud had betrayed him by leaving him in such a position, but only briefly before he found himself nodding off once more.

…

There had been a time, Sephiroth mused, when those under his command had listened with fear and awe with his very presence in a room. A time when he could send a soldier cowering in his boots with merely a glance, and a single word that would send him off to die. Now, as he sat patiently in his chair, he wished it was still so.

"You weren't watching him closely enough!" Selphie had a binder pointed dangerously close to Tifa's nose as the other woman leaned across the table, pointing back with her own.

"He's a grown man and a trained soldier! He's supposed to know how to look after himself!" She shot back. "Besides, I was fulfilling _my_ duties by making contact with influential guests!"

"Selphie, you were the one serving him drinks. Why didn't you cut him off before it impaired his judgement?" Sephiroth wondered vaguely if it was time to review the pros and cons of speech with the team as Yuna added her thoughts rather unhelpfully.

Which of course had the brunette rounding on _her _now. Sometimes he wondered if females did that on purpose. "What, so now it's _my_ fault?"

Sephiroth pinched the bridge of his nose before bellowing out a call for silence. Of all the things he had to deal with, now he found himself missing the brief company of the young blond man. At least he kept silent and held deference to his commanding officers. The familiarity of the boy was something else entirely, left to be prodded and examined at a later time.

"All of you, he is back. He is alive. Now stop your squabbling. The night was a catastrophic failure, but one which was salvaged by Tifa's ability to make contact with the daughter of a key player in our dilemma. So in a way, we can consider Squall's poor experience to be in our favour this time as it gave Tifa the opportunity she needed to secure our next foothold." Tifa looked smug, Selphie looked disgruntled, and Vincent looked interested. Which in and of itself he found was a mildly disturbing sight. He pressed a button on the panel before him, the debriefing screen flickering to life. "Now if you will, Tifa."

She cleared her throat unnecessarily.

"Large producing companies rely quite heavily on their suppliers to stay in business, and none so much as Uncle Scrooge's Sea Salt Savouries. Their dependence on large shipments of sea salt means quite literally that their success is in the hands of the largest distributor, nearly the _only_ distributor, of this raw material. I'm sure you're all familiar with_ this_ man," the face of a kindly looking old man with long white hair, a full beard and moustache to match filled the screen, "Triton, aptly known as King Triton in the industry. His business is a family run affair; his spokespersons, and Ansem's models, are Triton's very own daughters, and he has enough of them to insure that he will always have an heir apparent. Fortunately for us, his youngest recently married into one of the nobility that we have a connection to and is willing to pursue relations."

She nodded to Sephiroth, who indulged her by pressing the panel again, the screen flickering to contain six faces of young women, none of whom could be over the age of thirty.

"The Princesses of Heart. The six most influential women in the world at the moment, _and_ the wealthiest. The seventh, as you know, is under our care. This one," the image of the hazel-eyed brunette grew larger, "Belle, will be holding an invite-only ball of sorts on Friday, and thanks to Triton's daughter, we now have an invitation."

"So who's going?" Yuna leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a glance at Vincent. "A single invite would only get us two people in unless we were to create more."

"The more of us we attempt to filter in, the more noticeable it would be." Vincent said softly. "The best course is to send only two, while the rest keep monitoring the movements of the other suspects in Xehanort's organization. Leon is the only choice."

Sephiroth said nothing, watching the others carefully.

"Why Leon?" Selphie slammed a hand on the table. "He needs time off. To cool off, if nothing else! You _know_ Rinoa's probably got her own shiny little slip of paper; what happens then?"

"Who do you suggest we send as the male lead then?" Edea finally spoke up from her corner, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Cloud? The newest of our little band, and still building his confidence in a team? Sephiroth? He would be far too noticeable which might lead to complications later. We need a noble - someone their rank, and an escort."

"Cloud is far more competent than that, Matron." Tifa retorted, "He brought Leon home safely last time, didn't he?"

"I agree; he is rather a _remarkable_ boy. General," Edea turned to Sephiroth, "if you would loan us the use of your soldier. Squall shall be attending this event, and Cloud shall be his accompaniment to see that he comes home safely once more."

"What?" Tifa's surprise was drowned out by the tittering laughter of Selphie and Yuna.

"If you all would see to the preparations. I will inform Yuffie myself and see to it that Squall is aware of the arrangement in time."

"Why –"

Edea cast an amused glance at Tifa as she stood. "Because, dear Miss Lockheart, you have been seen with him too often as of late. One might get the wrong impression about you two which would then limit your use in the future. I'm sure you would rather play a larger role than merely Squall Leonhart's supposed fiancée. Also, three of you have scheduled sessions this Friday which you _will not_ be missing, understood?"

Sephiroth had to admire Edea's skill at striking the fighter-girl silent.

…

He was fascinating to watch, in all his peculiarity; concentrating so diligently in everything he did. Almost as though he felt the dire need to prove himself beyond a doubt in even the most mundane of activities.

They were so much alike, he and Squall, in more ways than Rinoa thought either would admit. They were both very private individuals, very closed off when threatened, and each equally quick learners. The difference lay in what she liked to refer to as their 'true personalities'.

It was all well and good to say that both wore masks and built walls around their proverbial hearts, but there was more to it than that.

Squall wasn't very outgoing or sociable. He had made himself into the paragon of a soldier. In all her time knowing him, he had never once opened up or showed an interest in anything other than his own studies. He was cold, with a standoffish personality that would just as easily let his pride take the better of him as shrug and walk away. Didn't concern him, wasn't his problem. Go talk to a wall. She'd found it amusing – had loved trying to work around that and learn just how Laguna's son could possibly be so different from his father.

But then, Laguna was partly responsible for how he'd turned out, she supposed. Squall had developed poorly, using his early abandonment issues as a crutch to become sullen and jaded in a way he had no right to adopt. It wasn't _Laguna's_ fault that circumstances had fallen the way they had; couldn't Squall _accept that_ and move on? Sure, she'd fought and run away from her own father on more than one occasion, founded a resistance group and inadvertently hired Squall as a mercenary to defy him, but she still loved him and …somewhat respected his wishes. At least she was marrying respectably like he'd wanted.

But Cloud…though she had noticed that he held some of the same aloofness and cold distance that Squall did, when caught unawares or with his guard skilfully negotiated, he really was just an earnest and eager to please young man. To be honest, she didn't know why he wanted to be a soldier so much, anyhow.

She had watched his process carefully since he had first applied to join the standing army under her father, and had agreed to General Caraway's assessment. He wasn't fit to be a soldier. However, she hadn't agreed with his reasons why.

He had dismissed Cloud Strife as nothing more than a head case, and a dangerous one at that. He had poor social skills and showed a violent and mindless streak when exposed to certain conditions. On top of that, he had no known past, affiliations or ambitions which made him a hazard to the government and the organization. She, however, had seen an opportunity and a young man that just needed the time to find his place. That was why she had him sent to Matron to be placed under the care of the General. Of all commanders, Sephiroth was the best choice for his sort, and Strife showed promise as a fighter.

Surprisingly, she had enjoyed her time with the blond far more than she had expected, and was absolutely thrilled when he could actually be prodded into returning her teasing comments.

The greatest surprise, however, had been his reaction that day to her passing mention of Sephiroth as the blond carefully held a wheel in place, balancing the axle just so. There was the strangest combination of emotions that passed across his face, some of which she had no name, others which were blatantly obvious.

He despised Sephiroth. Loved. Feared. Wanted. Needed. Idolized.

And then there was nothing. Just a boy building a train.

…

When Cloud re-entered the base a good nine hours later, replica train in hand while being waved off by the insanity that was Rinoa Heartily, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

Somehow, he wasn't quite sure, Rinoa had managed to dye his hair black. Why he couldn't remember - or indeed why he would have allowed it in the first place - was beyond him at the moment. Maybe it was something to do with the girl herself. Maybe it was the personality. He was pretty sure he had always had problems saying no to a woman, regardless of the idiocy of the plan.

And so there he was, clutching a toy train to replace the one that embedded itself in his foot, and trying not to look at the dark shadows of bangs that fell in his eyes.

She had promised him it would wash out. She had promised him it would wash out, and then she had grinned and told him the colour suited him, shoving him out of the sedan and calling for the driver to move. The woman was insane. Clinically insane. That's all there was to it. Only logical explanation.

The sound of peeling wheels didn't help her case much.

And suddenly, with an indescribable fear he wished desperately he was back in the car, even knowing the dark-haired woman was there.

She had dropped him off exactly where she had picked him up, just before the three short steps that led up to the infirmary. The stairs upon which now stood the tall dark form of General Sephiroth, arms folded and waiting. Not for Cloud, perhaps, because he had clearly seen the car pull up and chose to ignore it. But for something. Or some_one_.

And Cloud wasn't quite sure why the sight of the older man in the poorly lit night while he stood there with dyed hair and a shoddy toy train made him so scared. Terrified.

But he found out the moment he moved closer.

Sephiroth's eyes shifted to him, taking in the shock of dark hair and the navy standard issue jacket, and something…shifted. They both tensed for an unperceivable moment before Cloud, wide-eyed, felt a fist clench at his collar and his feet leaving the ground.

He couldn't breath; the grip was too strong. If his feet could just get a grip, maybe then he'd have enough leverage to break the hold, maybe he'd…Why was he doing this? What had he done? If it had been Leon, Cloud would have already been gone.

"You are _dead_!" The General snarled, and Cloud knew that it wasn't him that Sephiroth was seeing. He was seeing through Cloud; seeing something else entirely. But even knowing that was no consolation as he felt his back impact against the exterior of the infirmary, whatever breath he had managed to gain in the shift abruptly leaving. The train car had slipped from his fingers in the impact, lying dismally in its bright paint just at the edge of his vision. If it had broken, he'd still owe Selphie a new one.

"Why are you here? You died –in Nibelhiem, you died. I saw you die!" And somehow he still found enough sanity – insanity?- to find it funny that even the General had bouts of mental instability.

_We're friends, right?_

Cloud knew, in some distance part of his mind – the part that wasn't desperately fighting off the encroaching fear of dying in a momentary fit of madness– that if he wanted to live through this, air was going to be a necessity very soon. And as the hands clawing at the ones holding him suffocating against the building weren't being nearly as effective at loosening the grip, he resorted to frantically trying other methods of escape. Mainly pounding on the walls and scrabbling for purchase there in the vain hope that someone might hear him.

_Cloud, run!_

"Don't look at me like that! _Zack!_ I _order_ you to stop looking at me!"

Seeing no other option, Cloud readily obliged. Sephiroth responded by casting him aside, Cloud's shoulder hitting the ground with painful jolt. And as he lay there, gasping for breath and watching those dark boots move closer, Cloud swore he smelt fire. _Tifa's house was burning. People were screaming._

And someone was standing between him and the General. Dark shaggy hair and a fighter's build. Someone was helping him to his feet as the General disappeared into the night.

…

It was an inopportune time to be interrupted. Inopportune, because now he wouldn't get any answers out of Matron, and because whatever was happening outside sounded like it might need more strength than Leon currently had.

He expected to find Yuffie and Selphie terrorizing the regulars, or even the regulars terrorizing each other. Perhaps the vague thought of a wandering mongrel or some such bestial disturbance passed through his mind even.

What he didn't expect was the sight of one black-haired Cloud Strife struggling against the powerful grip of a snarling General Sephiroth. To be honest, he hadn't actually thought it possible for the General to be out of sorts, and it had cost him the brief flash of time in which Cloud was harshly cast aside.

Wondering why Cloud had dark hair at all didn't even register as he hastily placed himself between the two, infinitely glad that Matron seemed set on handling Sephiroth on her own. That woman was a force to be reckoned with when needed.

And the once-blond was curled on the ground, one hand as his throat, the other nursing his shoulder. He'd landed pretty badly; Leon just hoped it was nothing that would interfere with their new orders.

Cloud was staring at him something awful as Leon tugged the man into a somewhat sitting position.

"Come on, Strife, you're going to have to help me a little here. You're going to be okay, we just have to

move." God was this undignified. He could hardly lift the man's weight in his weakened state, which resulted in an awkward stumbling dance of getting back into the infirmary without either man tripping the other.

What Leon found mildly disturbing was the rasping, inaudible mutters of the once-blond.

"Stay with me, Cloud. Aeris will have my head if something happens to you now." He grunted.

"_Zack."_ Came the almost whispered voice, Cloud's hands fisting in his shirt. "Zack, you're here. You promised. You promised…"

And _that_ was a clear indication that something was definitely wrong with the man. Another was being jerked to a stop, resulting in over balancing and a staggered sway across the room. Leon's foot caught on something – what, he could not see, though he had a firm suspicion it had been one of the tiered potted plants – which sent him toppling over one of the cots. The steel frame was not his friend, and he didn't doubt he would have a large bruise from where he had landed at the wrong angle.

And Cloud was kissing him now. Awkward, demanding kisses like he was afraid everything would disappear around him. And it would, damn it.

"Cloud, what the hell are you doing?" Leon was pushing him away, or at least trying to. It was rather hard to do when one was still recuperating and pumped full with the residue of painkillers and sedatives. Or when facing a soldier who was clearly caught in his own delusions. "Strife, wake up!"

He wasn't. The bastard wasn't snapping out of it. In fact, his hands were now busily ridding Leon of his shirt with little regard to the buttons, while his mouth was fastened quite happily to the scarred man's neck. Collarbone. Ribs? Too far. _Too far!_

This couldn't end well; hands fisted in the white sheets, sprawled in an odd angel, not even entirely on the bed. One of Cloud's hands had found its way under his waistband, caressing his hipbone.

This was definitely one of the most awkward and degrading moments Leon had ever encountered.

And the hand in his pants had stopped moving. Was frozen, even. He refused to look to see why.

That is, until Strife had shot across the room and the sound of water and '_why won't it come out!'_ filled the air. Which was confusing for a moment. It was then that Leon remembered there was a sink in the corner of the room, imbedded in the counter that housed more plants, falling, spilling, living in a tangled mass of leaves and green. There was even a small pink watering can that sat on its edge; a little red bow tied to the handle.

But that really wasn't important at the moment. Or at least, not as important as the frantic man who had only seconds ago been molesting him in a most undignified manner, whispering words of _Zack _and _promises_.

Now, Leon had never been good at dealing with people. In fact, his ability to read a situation involving others and to act accordingly had always been rather touch and go, but he was able to navigate reasonably well on most occasions. The somewhat doubtful skills certainly explained why he was so often assigned a team rather than perform solo, though. Most times Tifa was there as much to provide backup as to ensure he didn't end up cultivating wars with his astounding people skills.

But as far as he was concerned, he had done fine so far in missions.

Dealing with the once blond man was a little different though, and this time there was no Tifa or Aeris to buffer.

He was a very proud man. Well Vincent had pride. Leon could deal with that. Proud and silent. But Vincent's moods were rather stable in their oddity. He was more familiar and it was easier to judge what would offend him, and where things would lead.

Vincent only had to be watched around Hojo.

Cloud also had a sharp wit and dry humour that was closer to dealing with Tifa, or even Paine in her more lenient moods. He easily moved between mercenary and civilian like no military man had the right to. In fact, Leon could see the man being quite content in another lifestyle, far away from subterfuge and death.

And the man had already proven that he was a leader when called upon, and was damn good at taking Leon's place

But then there were the times like this, where he would break. Snap. Realize something that had passed him by before. Catch himself in an act that was not entire his own. Cloud's actions, they hadn't been directed at him at all, had they?

All that added up to a confused Leon in where the man stood, and how he should be dealt with. Especially if Matron was serious in her new orders. Which of course she was; he had yet to see her feed him lies. Which led to even more questions.

Questions that disappeared as quickly as they had arrived when Cloud had lunged towards the corner sink, looking nothing more than like he was attempting to drown himself unsuccessfully.

"It won't come out. Why won't it come out?" Came the dismal cry from under the sound of the water. Leon was attempting to pull him away from the stream.

So he was trying to wash his hair now?

If he had his usual strength, this would not be an issue. He could have just picked the other man up and trussed him up to the bed to wait out whatever madness had entered his head. Of course, if he had his usual strength, he would still have his shirt on and Cloud would be locked away in a storage room. As it stood, it took every ounce of his strength to pull the once-blond back to the bed.

Surprisingly, once he was free of the water, he came sullen and silently, allowing Leon to direct him to a seat.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Leon snagged the blanket from the other cot, using it to roughly towel dry the other's hair. "Everyone breaks."

Some of the dark dye came off on the makeshift towel, and no doubt he'd get hell from Aeris for ruining the sheets, but the head before him was still predominantly black. Rinoa certainly did a number on him. Leon was almost afraid to know why.

There was a soft snort and a heavy silence.

"We're going to go out tomorrow. Off base." The man needed it. He was adjusting, but adjusting took time. Hell, even Yuffie still broke on occasion; it wasn't fair to expect him to be perfect. Whatever discomfort arose from memories of this night would have to be dealt with later. Emotions weren't allowed to interfere with work.

"You think they'd let me leave? Now?" There was incredulity in his voice, staring down at the soiled sheet in a strange fascination. "After…that? I…I'm sorry. I don't know what --"

"They don't need to know. Not about that." Leon shifted. "As far as Matron's concerned, I escorted you inside, and you went to sleep.

He should tell them. File a report. True, he hadn't been violent, but what would Leon have done if Strife hadn't remembered himself? Things may have gone too far, and what then? Would he have been as willing to cover then as he was now?

…Probably. If only to save face.

But that didn't matter now. They wouldn't speak of it again, that was all. For now he would follow what training dictated, and that was to prepare his team for their next outing.

And that meant convincing said team mate to co-operate. Even if he was quite sure the other would have no intention to.

"Dinner. I know a good place a few hours from here. Good food."

"Why?" Suspicion. Wary. Well, he had good reason to be. That didn't mean that Leon would be easy on him.

"Don't want you to burn out too fast. You got thrown in the mess of things without proper training. Trust me, you need time away."

And that was the end of it. Cloud offered no refusals, or questions, or suspicions after that, and Leon offered no answers, or explanations or assuagements. He just curled up on the one bed, one hand firmly clutching the stained sheet, not even bothering to crawl under the covers.

Leon sighed, shifting his seat to the other cot and resting his back against the wall. Now the problem arose of how to convince the man into a dress.

Maybe a visit to Cid was in order. And 7th Heaven.


	9. Chapter 9: Excursion

**Chapter Nine: Excursion**

He didn't belong here.

Not anymore, if he ever did to begin with. Didn't deserve to be near Sora's light, and unlikely that he would last long against Roxas' assaults.

If Roxas ever really existed. He had his doubts about that, sometimes, in the dark of the night. The other voice, the one that had been in his head when they had arrived here – it was gone. He hadn't needed it. Why did Sora?

Sora could take care of himself now. He'd grown and proven that he'd moved beyond what protection Riku could offer at his side. And Kairi – Kairi had more forces looking out for her than just two teenage boys.

And he realized, as he watched Sora sleep, curled up next to Kairi on one of the lower bunks, that he was jealous. A little. Just a bit. Sora didn't need him anymore, not really. He wasn't useful here.

He would get out. Leave.

So he grabbed his stuffed mouse, and he knelt at the large white door, working the lock carefully for the last time. He needed someone with him, at least. Not everyone could survive on their own. It would remind him of a purpose at least.

He'd make a place in the world where Sora's magic kingdom could truly exist. Where a mouse could be king, and where ducks wore no pants. And where mutated dog hippos could love bipedal cows.

Greater things lay beyond this door. He would be far more helpful to Sora on the other side. Someday, he'd take them both home, and there would be no need for fighting or elixirs or voices in their heads.

Just Sora and Riku and Kairi on a beach somewhere, lying in the sand without a care in the world. There they could dream of whatever they wanted, and the nightmares would fade. Nothing in the shadows to fear, and no glowing eyes that brought pain.

He would save them all, and it all started with one large white door.

There was a grin as the door swung softly open. A silent celebration of success. A confused grip on a shirt.

"Riku?"

Eyes widened a moment as the realization that Sora wasn't quite asleep anymore landed.

"Riku, where are you going?"

This was the moment. He'd sort of hoped that he'd miss it; that Sora would find out that he was gone when…he was already gone. That he'd have Kairi there, and Kairi would make everything better. They'd forget about him, and he'd work hard, and prepare the world for them and then…and then they'd be happy together again. Yes.

Nothing made Sora sad. He would get over Riku leaving, and he would be happy. And then he would find Riku, and he would be happy! That was the way it worked!

"Go back to sleep, Sora."

A frown crossed his face, his grip a little more firm. "Where are you going, Riku?"

Riku sigh, putting on a serious face. "Sora, I have to leave now. You have to help me do this, and close the door afterwards. Me on one side, you on the other."

"I don't understand. Why?" Sora wasn't getting it. To Riku it was so clear. Why wasn't he getting it?

"There's something I have to do. I can't do it here." Sora's frown was deepening. He wasn't supposed to frown. That sort of thing was never supposed to touch his face. It didn't belong.

Riku couldn't take it. He pulled himself clear of Sora's grip, and beyond the door, and pushed it closed.

Sora was fighting him. The door wasn't closing.

He could see half of Sora's face, determined and pushing right back. "I'm sorry Sora. Take care of her."

And with a final shove, the door shut, the lock clicking back into place. Without him, it would take Sora a good deal longer to break free. He never was very good at opening doors on his own.

Riku sighed again, letting his head rest against the white sterile walls of the corridor for a moment, wondering what he'd do now. Couldn't get caught by _them_, then he'd only end up back in the room. Not much use there.

So first order was to leave the immediate premise and find sanctuary. Matron was sanctuary.

He would find Matron.

So he navigated the pitiful maze that constituted the base laboratory, clutching the plush mouse to his chest with nothing but that thought in mind. Get out of the building. Get to Matron. Get out of the building. Get to Matron.

It helped him forget the look of betrayal on Sora's face.

What look of betrayal? No one had betrayed Sora.

Sora was happy. Happy. Happy.

Why didn't Sora know that he was happy?

Maybe Matron would know. She knew a lot of things.

But she wasn't there when he arrived at her office.

Riku felt exhaustion seeping into his body. The drive that had been with him when he'd made his decision to leave, gone. The chemicals they had been using…they had less effect on him these days, even though he liked to keep up the appearance when they were near – saved him from them trying something new; worse – but that didn't mean they didn't affect him at all.

In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have exerted himself quite as much as he had avoiding people on his way here…the increased heart rate had made his body more susceptible, and he was going to pay for it now.

He settled for curling up under her desk, falling into an uneasy sleep. The mouse was his lifeline; it would lead him back to Sora someday.

Until then, Matron would know what to do.

…

The garage was big. Giant. In fact, it was really more like a hangar than a garage.

Sure, it had cars and trucks and smelt of oil and grease…but if the glimpse of propellers beyond the massive doors at the end was any indication, this garage was also home to airships as well.

Cloud found his pulse quickening as he stood somewhat awkwardly near the entrance. He was excited.

"Cid!" Leon bellowed over the sound of steel being tinkered and tampered, "Highwind! Get out here!"

And there was the sound of cursing, and metal falling. A dull thunk. More cursing. A wrench went flying through the air near Cloud's ear, crashing into the wall with an angry clash only to skitter away under an old brown tow truck. Leon hadn't flinched.

Cloud wondered vaguely if this was normal behaviour to expect from the man.

"What the bloody hell are you wailing about now?" A disgruntled blond man in his early thirties trudged out from around a navy blue Hudson Hornet, another wrench brandished in hand almost like a weapon. Almost. "Some of us have fucking jobs to do, ya damn prettyboy."

"Cloud, Cid," Leon said dryly, with a bland gesture, "Cid, Cloud."

"What're you looking at, kid?" The man muttered as he pulled out a cigarette, cupping a hand to light it. "Like you never seen a real man before. Spent too long with those pansy-assed _special_ forces."

"Kid's new, Cid. Be civil. And you shouldn't be smoking in the garage; hasn't Shera warned you about that?" The scarred solider crossed his arms and shot the man a disapproving glare.

"Don't have time for fucking 'get-to-know-you' shit, Miss Manners, and that woman ain't here. What the Hell you want?"

"We're going out tonight; need a car." Cid snatched the papers Leon had produced from wherever he had stored them. "Just for dinner, nothing flashy."

"I don't give a damn where you're going on your date, but I swear, if you fuckers even think of getting 'friendly' in one of my cars –" Date? That wrench came awfully close to the brunet's face. It wasn't…it was just getting out. He needed it…didn't he? Cloud shot Leon a glare the other man ignored.

"No one's going to defile your vehicle, Highwind, just give me the keys. We talked about this before." Cloud was slightly amused to see Leon's façade fracture a little. The man was irritated. Annoyed. Miffed. Definitely a trace of pent up frustration.

Cloud wondered suspiciously if Leon had been thinking of last night. Had he pictured Cloud beneath him on the back seat? Moaning, gasping, the perfect puppet? Was that what this was about? He couldn't help the simmering anger that appeared as he stood next to the scarred man.

"Yeah, about a lot of things. Like how you're giving my fucking machines away to untrained rookies."

"Strife is hardly _untrained_ with motorcycles." Leon replied, still matching Cid's glare with is own, "And I already have clearance for it."

"I'm being issued a bike?" To say Cloud was surprised was an understatement. Shocked, a little wary…but pleased. Very pleased. Maybe he had misjudged the other man.

"So the runt has a voice." The older blond was scrutinizing him now, flicking his cigarette away to crush under a boot. "He's the one the little princess likes, ain't he. So fond of him she felt the fucking need to plaster my workspace with his spiky ass. You look different."

Cloud slowly turned to follow where the older man had jabbed a finger, not really wanting to see, but knowing by now that his body wouldn't agree.

And there they were, in amongst sketches and blueprints tacked sloppily to the wall: smiling, waving, taunting. Messy drawings of a man with jagged yellow hair and the smudge of a blue uniform.

The one that disturbed him the most, however, had to be the one with Leon blob, complete with shaggy hair and scar holding Cloud blob. Not the fact that it was anything particularly lewd -- those seemed to be pushed to the side and poorly covered – but the fact that it had been framed and hung quite precisely upon the wall for all to see.

Cid must have noticed his stare, because the man turned away muttering something about Shera and encouraging people, only with far more cursing and slightly less tact.

The brunet seemed unfazed. "Look, give me the keys, show him the bike, and let us get out of your way."

"Yeah, yeah, you can take Doc. Just finished his repairs, and he needs a test drive anyhow."

"If we get stranded out there –"

"Mater and I'll just have to come tow ya' back, then won't we. You think I'd leave my damn cars rotting on a roadside? It's a fucking Hudson Hornet. Good car." Cid jerked his head in indication to Cloud. Indicating what, the once-blond wasn't quite sure, but he would assume it meant to follow the muttering man. "Thinks he's all high and fucking mighty, with his '_my daddy's the President; my girlfriend's the leader; Leon not Squall; give me a car.'" _

He swore he heard Leon growl as he caught the keys chucked at him from the irritable blond man, but by then Cloud and Cid were disappearing deeper into the maze of machines and he really couldn't be certain.

When he was certain that the brunet couldn't hear them, he gave into his urge and invaded Leon's privacy.

It wasn't like he'd hear it from the man himself.

"Girlfriend?"

Cid shot him a look over his shoulder that seemed to convey the horrendously confusing messages of both '_why the hell are you talking to me?_' and '_pull up a chair, I've got a feast'_ Cloud did his best to look as harmless as possible and shrugged.

"Don't you even know who signs your damn pay checks?" He snorted. "You really think a group of messed up fuckers like them 'special forces' would be openly backed by the government?"

Well…

"Secret unit, filled to the brim with crackpots and used as mercenary hires. And his fucking girl's the one with the strings. Met her out in Timber, and she's been our problem ever since." Cid pulled short suddenly, staring at the sleek curves of a dark bike to his left. "It's new. Only just designed it a couple month's back."

He stored that information away for later, turning to look to the side. "It's a beautiful machine."

It really was. Cloud wanted to touch it. Wanted to reach out and run his hands along the cool metal and feel the weight beneath him. Feel the vibrations of the motor and the sensation of speed against his flesh. In fact, he'd far rather stay right here and inspect it deeper than go out on the town with the man waiting for him.

He wondered what Leon would say to that.

"I like you, Kid. Not yammering away or pulling unnecessary shit all the time. Heard you did pretty well your first time out."

It took the younger man an effort to respond this time, his eyes still following the details of the creature before him. Because it was a creature, or at least, more so than a machine, in any regard. It spoke to him. He wanted it.

"I did what I had to. Nothing else to do."

And Cid was watching him. Watching him, watching the living shadow that was this bike. Watching the not-machine that was almost certainly watching back.

"It's yours."

"What?" He couldn't be serious. No one would give something like this to him. He'd expected an older model; a Hardy Daytona or something shoved away in the back ready to fossilize on a pedestal in some museum. He had been quite certain that the only way he'd get to touch the thing would be in passing or a good old fashioned stealthy break-in after hours.

"I said it's fucking yours. Better than some prancing Nancy-boy who can't hold his liquor."

The keys chucked at his head were swiped from the air in a fluid motion, and Cid nodded approvingly before walking away. Well, _score_.

"I expect you to do your own god-damn maintenance. And if you ever crash it, I'll fucking castrate you with a wrench." He called over his shoulder.

Cloud winced involuntarily, pocketing the keys as he made his way back to where Leon waited with crossed arms and a fearsome glower. It seemed like somehow, in a strange perverse way, he'd made a new friend.

And now he had all the time in the world to admire his new beast.

The scowling brunet didn't say anything, just turned around and strode out the door with a purpose. He beckoned with a hand as he passed into the afternoon light. Cloud didn't much like being beckoned anywhere, but he had just been given the keys to something beautiful. He felt trusted. So he caught up with the other man regardless.

"If we're leaving, you left the car behind." He said dryly as he kept pace with Leon.

"You need to change."

Now frankly, Cloud saw nothing wrong with wearing the same clothes he had worn yesterday. They hadn't gotten overly dirty in his…encounter with the General, and he really didn't see the benefit in exchanging one uniform for another when the one he wore was still intact. But he didn't argue with Leon's logic, and accompanied him dutifully to the barracks.

Now, even in his hazy thoughts, he knew the barracks here were unlike any other. Not in the design, or the arrangement – most barracks had simple, inexpensive beds and a place for storage for each soldier. Many had communal showers attached to said barracks. A decent number had a separate room attached to said barracks for higher ranking officers - this particular one did too; just left of the door, next to the showers.

What was rather unconventional was not the design or the things, but the inhabitants. He was quite certain that it was against regulations for him to have a bunk next to Selphie. Or in clear view of Tifa's. That had to be wrong somehow. Yes, he and Vincent had the two bunks closest to the door, but that hardly fell under ordinary procedure. But then, this unit was anything but ordinary.

Cloud really had no inclination to fraternize with the women he shared the space with, though. He supposed that was one of the reasons no one cared. The last thing he needed was to be involved with someone more messed up than he already was.

As he tried to make a line for his locker, he felt a firm grip on the scruff of his neck, pulling him back to the officer's door. The tug made him tense; coiled. And the hand was gone, disappearing with Leon beyond the doorframe.

He unconsciously patted the keys in his pocket and relaxed. It was a good day.

A good day.

Leon's room wasn't elaborate; nowhere near the blond's muttered and disgruntled comparisons. It was barely large enough for a standard issue bed frame and small desk. There was a folded chair stowed between the desk and the wall, and a laptop closed neatly under a cheap desk lamp.

He had the same pillow as Cloud, he noted, a small feeling of satisfaction filling him. The girls had all brought in their own touches, making their spaces more comfortable and 'lived-in'. It seemed Squall hadn't bothered.

The other man had gone to the wall, sliding open a panel to reveal what passed as his closet space. Mounted high at the back were the two strangest weapons the blond had ever seen.

Both looked like a mutilated cross between a sword and an unfortunate revolver. One was standard steel with an engraved lion that matched Leon's bike, the other had small white wings extending from the stock, surrounding the sides of the magazine. The blade was shining an eerie bluish light even in the shadow of the closet. It was a neat trick.

Leon must have noticed his fascination, because there was a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. "Gunblades."

Of course. Gunblades. Why hadn't he thought of such a thing? Cloud was hoping the man who named the chunks of metal had been shot. Or fired. But shot would have been more humane.

"Revolver and Lionheart."

"You ever use them?" He honestly wanted to see how they worked. The base of the blades looked too weak to stand up to much pressure, especially with the added strain of the recoil of a firearm. Maybe the magazine was just for decoration? The thing looked like it would break under the conditions of any serious fight.

"Not anymore." Leon took a moment then to look at Cloud properly, sizing him up before riffling through his hangers. He found a dark blue turtleneck tossed at his head along with a pair of pants. Leather pants.

"You're joking." He gave the pants a tug, not noticing much give. What was wrong with standard cargos, anyhow?

"You can't wear a uniform out there, and you don't have a store of civilian clothing in your locker. This is all I have that will fit you. Deal with it." Leon had pulled off his shirt, tossing it on the bed as he looked for himself.

"And _this_ is supposed to fit me." Great, and they'd have matching pants now too.

"They'll fit. Now stop complaining and change."

Leon's back was crisscrossed with white scars, and – despite how proper and refined he looked in a tux – here he looked very much a soldier. Somehow Cloud couldn't help but think the man looked larger, more imposing without his shirt. As if one more wall was torn down between a fanged beast and a rare steak. It made him wonder if he really _was_ stronger than this man.

And then he realized that he had just as many scars of his own. And he had pinned the brunet in under three seconds. And held him against his will quite easily…

About that…

Cloud found he had zoned out when he caught sight of Leon smirking at him. When had he turned around?

"What?"

He was too close in this box-like room. Like he unconsciously wanted to state his territory by making the blond the one to back away. Well hell with that. If he was going to have to wear the man's ridiculous clothes, he wasn't going to lose face any more face than he had to.

Why was Cloud staring? The other expected an answer.

There was a nice scar that wrapped around his left hip, and another – a large jagged mark – through his shoulder. _Through._ It matched one on his back. Cloud wondered how he had survived.

"Looks like it hurt." He resisted rolling his own shoulder where a smaller, more precise scar told a similar phantom story.

Leon glanced down. "Mind-numbing cold. It was a gift from Matron, a long time ago."

"Matron did that?"

"I tried to kill her. She took offence." He replied bluntly.

"I wonder why."

He snorted softly.

"It's going to take us awhile to get there, and we need to stop somewhere first. We should head out." Leon paused, and seemed to debate with himself a moment. "Are you alright?"

That was a good question. There were a lot of things that were bothering him quite a bit. A list, in fact, each waiting to be called on quite impatiently. But Cloud knew that some things were none of his business, particularly when it involved other's private and personal life. He also knew that his stoic companion really didn't seem equipped to deal with anyone's issues other than his own – and Cloud really wasn't equipped to share them.

But Leon was _trying_, which Cloud knew was hard - for both of them.

What he settled for was an apology, because that was bothering him slightly more than the mysteries. He hadn't meant to do that. Not to Leon; not to Zack. Zack was…dead. He'd never see him again. Ever.

Sometimes remembering was worse than not knowing at all.

Whatever history he had with Sephiroth…whatever triggered that memory…he'd never make that mistake again. He'd just have to be more careful from now on.

"About last night…I'm sorry. I forgot…a lot of things."

Leon was silent a moment, watching him. "…we'll talk about it later."

And that was it.

…

The women were squishy. Short and squishy – there really was no other was to describe it.

There were four of them, tucked away in the far reaches of the base near a dense forest Cloud hadn't even thought existed. They wore old fashioned peasant-like dresses with conical hats held to their heads with some sort of scarf. Well, three of them were, in pink and green and blue respectively.

The fourth was wearing some sort of blanket tied about her neck like a cape. It was blue with a pinkish red bow, for the record. It was the sort of look that only designers could pull off in society for all their eccentricities, looking ridiculous even on paper.

According to Leon, that's what they were. Designers.

What he needed designers for was beyond him, but Leon assured him that they would need his measurements for future assignments, and it was best to get it dealt with as soon as possible.

And he nudged the blond towards them, each old woman grinning excitedly, clutching some tool of destruction or another.

Which in reality were only a few measuring tapes and some pens to take notes, but he had a sneaking suspicion that their goal that day was no less sinister for the deceptive innocence of their instruments.

They stripped him down quite gleefully, commenting on 'how slim' he was, and 'how magnificent' he'd look. About how they had the most wonderful idea! Well, four wonderful ideas, but they would sort that out and _no_ Merriweather, it would _not_ be _blue_!

He quite hoped that 'it' _would_ be blue. The other suggestions had sounded an awful lot like _pink_ and _purple._ Somehow he couldn't quite picture his masculinity being comfortable in a pink suit.

Leon wouldn't say a word about what was going on, and Cloud spent most of the ordeal glaring at him from across the room.

…when he wasn't glaring at the squishy women for what he was convinced were intentional inappropriate touches. He was such a pretty boy, they cackled gleefully.

Old women were terrifying.

When they had each measured him at least twice, and the one in green – Fauna? – looked like she was moving in to begin again, Leon stepped in to intervene.

My knight, Cloud thought dryly, it only took him an hour and a half.

…

The restaurant they stepped into was small and unassuming; more of a café than a restaurant, but more of a restaurant than a café.

That is to say, while it looked like a café, with its small circular tables and friendly atmosphere, he couldn't think of many cafes that required reservations, semi-formal attire and full wine lists.

There was a wooden sign swinging cheerfully outside the door, boasting the silhouette of a rat wearing a small chef's hat and clutching a large wooden spoon. They passed the doorway too quickly for Cloud to be sure, but he was quite certain he caught the name 'Ratatouille'.

He wasn't left long to think about that though, as a gangly red-haired man was skating up to them with a grin on his face.

"Mr. Loire!" There was definitely excitement in his tone, Cloud noted with interest, though he was slightly distracted by the weak attempt at a goatee on the boy's face. The man's voice dropped to not quite a whisper. "When they said to make the reservation for Leonhart I just _knew_ it was you!"

He coughed, raising himself up from his slouch in an attempt to look respectable. His voice, lowered several notches . "Good evening, Sir. How may I be of service?"

"Our seats, if you don't mind, Linguini." Cloud was surprised to hear a soft…fondness? No, that wasn't the right word…indulgence, perhaps in Leon's voice. The same sort of tone he used when he told Yuffie to shut up, or Selphie to put away her trains.

"Oh. Oh, yes!" He skated a few feet away, menus in hand. "Over here, over here."

There weren't that many tables in the place; about sixteen, maybe twenty. Most were filled. Each couple they passed seemed to pause though, shooting furtive glances at Leon, but more often at him. Leon they stared at unabashed because he studiously ignored everyone in the room. Cloud….well Cloud, he stared back. Made it more difficult to look like you weren't _really _trying to look.

He'd never been out in public with Leon before, and found himself wondering if this was something to expect everywhere. And then wondering if he actually expected to be out in public with Leon again.

"I thought you might want some privacy, like usual; you and your guest." Linguini rolled to a stop at one of the small tables farthest from the door. Cloud raised an eyebrow at Leon, who was clearly still trying to ignore the world. He found it mildly entertaining that 'private' still had a full view of the door and all of the other patrons. Then again, there didn't seem to be much cover at all, and this was dimly lit off in a corner…he supposed this was as private as it got.

And the other tables were still shooting them looks, whispering softly to their dinner mates.

"What's going on, Leon?" Cloud folded his arms after they had both sat and the red-haired Linguini had skated away.

"I don't know what you're talking about. We're here for dinner." He was busy studying the wine list before him.

"Then why are they staring, Squall Loire?" the blond retorted.

Leon had twitched then, his eyes sharply meeting the blond's.

"Here you are." The waiter had returned with two goblets of water, setting them down with a wink.

…And remained standing there, a little nervously now, his fingers drumming along the round tray he held before him like a shield.

"What is it, Linguini?" Leon was looking at him pointedly.

"Uh, well…we both…well, we-both-thought-that-your-second-guest-was-Miss-Heartily-because-you're-never-here-without-her." Linguini was hunched behind his tray, eyes clenched shut as though he expected Leon to take grave offence to his babbled sentence.

Leon blinked.

Leon sighed.

Leon handed Linguini his wine list.

"You can tell Colette that Cloud is a colleague of mine. Pinot Noir, and we'll have whatever Monsieur Ego pairs with that."

"Oh, uh…I'll just ask him then; he really is happy that you appreciate his taste. A good choice. Always a good choice. I'll just…I'll just leave now." He whipped Cloud's menu from his hands and tucked it under his arm as he bowed in an elegant sweep. "You're very pretty, Miss, I hope you enjoy our fare."

Cloud spluttered as the red-head glided away once more, very nearly getting to his feet if it weren't for Leon's vice-like grip on his hand.

"Relax. Not in public."

"He just –"

The brunet held up the flat side of a knife, gesturing to the blond-black streaked tufts with the other hand.

There was a pink sparkly bow in his hair. And some glitter. When had –

"You didn't _say_ anything? Couldn't have even _hinted_ that those grannies had done something to my _head_?" The other man was smirking. "You think this is funny; people thinking I'm a girl."

"A little."

Cloud shot him a glare before bending over, ruffling his hair in an attempt to dislodge some of the flakes.

"Leave it; you'll only confuse him now."

"Good. Aside from that, I hardly look like a woman."

"Not all women are as…endowed as Miss Lockheart. And besides, your face isn't all that unpleasant to look at."

"Thanks for that." Cloud replied dryly.

Leon crossed his arms, leaving back in his chair. "What are you going to do when they call on you to play roles other than that of the General's consort? You're in SeeD now; it's not always a tux and uniform."

"I don't see you wearing lace and ribbons." He was feeling more than a little surly. It was like Leon was actually trying to convince him that being a woman wasn't so bad. It would explain a few things…

"I have a reputation and a place beyond the military. That's one function I can't be used for."

"What, and I don't? Is that it?" Cloud shot, keeping his voice low. "It's alright for Strife to be labelled a woman because no one knows him. No one can tell the difference."

"Can they? We have a new assignment." Leon was watching him closely. "Can you handle it?"

Of course they had a new assignment. It was a joke to think that Leon had dragged him here to get away from the base; it was always business. He was beginning to realize that he would never be able to get away from orders. So he nodded, giving a non-committal sound as he toyed with his water. This was his life now. If he couldn't handle this, he wouldn't have many other options.

"The others are unavailable that night; it's just you and I."

"Just say it, Leon. You're not good at trying to lessen the blow." He felt a small bit of satisfaction at the look on the brunet's face then. He wasn't an idiot. There was only one place this was going.

"We're going to a formal ball. One invite, no support." He paused, thanking the waiter for the decanter of red wine, waiting patiently for him to leave again. It seemed there was only the one waiter.

"And that means…" He knew what it meant. He knew, and yet he still needed Leon to say it aloud… for his sanity, perhaps.

"Squall Loire dates women. You're in a dress."

So that was it. It still seemed a bit surreal, a bit _not-quite-right_ to hear the words, but they were said, and that made them solid. Leon had no reason to lie about it.

"A few hours, nothing more. You can change out in the car. You'll be silent, a few dances when we have to; knowing the host, a dinner as well. Nothing difficult."

Cloud drained his wine in one shot to the bemusement of Leon. "Fine. Squall Loire also has a stick up his—"

"Dinner is served!" The plates clattered as they settled under the watchful eye of the grinning red-head. "For the Sir, and for the Miss, a lighter dish that the esteemed Ego says is magnificent with your choice of dri…oh…did you want more? I'll bring you another litre."

There was a woman glaring out the circular window leading to the kitchen. Though he couldn't see her hands, he could swear she was tapping a large wooden spoon against one hand in warning.


	10. Chapter 10: Embrasure

**AN: ** This is for that one anonymous review before Christmas that reminded me it existed, and appreciated the beginning enough to mention it. Happy New Year.

**Chapter Ten: Embrasure**

"Riku, what are you doing here?"

This day had not gone well for Edea at all. She was running on no sleep, Sephiroth was still recovering from his…lapse, and she'd had to deal with no less than three visits from Leonhart that morning. She'd granted his request for Strife's new toy on the third visit on the sole condition that he handle the situation on his own from now on by taking the man under his wing.

Squall could train the man to fill various roles, and in return, she hoped the blond would act as a positive influencer on Squall's own anti-social streak.

Edea knew she had too much fondness for her unit, but then, she'd always had a weakness for taking in the lost and confused. The majority of her soldiers she had trained from a young age, the others, she had shaped from broken pieces. Some were still volatile.

Happening across the pale form curled in a corner of her office clutching at a black stuffed mouse only underlined that. Her hand was already on the phone.

The trio had been terribly dangerous when they first arrived, each possessing a secondary personality that would appear at random – not all of which got along or even held the same conscience. They had extreme difficulty in distinguishing make believe from reality and like as not would see one person as a threat one moment and an ally the next. She couldn't remember the number of times they had called her an evil sorceress in those first few months. Or the number of times since she had caught Sora referring to someone or thing he had taken to calling Jiminy whenever he was upset. She had a sneaking suspicion Leonhart had something to do with that, but he refused to comment on the issue.

"Don't. I'm not going back." He didn't sound confused, Edea rationalized, though he was still holding Lulu's present tightly to his chest.

"I don't have time for this, Riku. Half of the team is out of commission; even Sephiroth won't be active for quite some time." Whatever Rinoa had done to the blond had left the silver general unbalanced and irrational; he kept mentioning things from his past – things that were never on his file. He was hiding something and Edea planned on spending the next few weeks finding out.

But the real question was whether little Riku, so like the older man, was as volatile now as he had been in the past.

"Then use me. Send me out. _Anywhere._"

"Why should I. Your previous demand was to stay near Sora." It might be helpful. Riku had a place in the Organization; he was recognizable. He had experience, and was an invaluable operative.

But if this was simply a misunderstanding between the two boys, regardless of severity, the child might quickly come to regret this choice and that could compromise a good number of plans.

"I'm not staying here, Edea. It's just me in here," he tapped his head, pulling himself from the floor, "but Hojo doesn't know. Doesn't care."

She held his stare a moment longer before letting her hand slip from the phone. It was worth the risk. "I have a task for you then. I want you to find Ansem. You will gain his confidence, and act under his command. No one else will know of this; you will disappear until such time as I call you back."

"…not even Sora?"

"Not even Sora. We will be using Roxas rather extensively. You may cross paths." She bent to his level, holding his eyes firmly. "I need your word, Riku. Even if you miss him, even if you miss Kairi – or I will frogmarch you right back to them now."

"I'm enlisting, Edea. I'm not a child anymore."

"Good. Then you won't be treated as one." The Matron of the barracks wondered if their gracious benefactor would approve.

…

This wasn't dignified. There was no _way_ this was dignified.

It didn't suit him, regardless of the traitorous whispers in his head, and most _certainly _regardless of the cooing adoration from the female population of the barracks.

So…so much purple. Yards and yards of it, draping and piling about his ankles.

The shoes weren't a problem. No, he was surprisingly comfortable standing in high heels, which came as a bit of a shock. Perhaps more to Yuffie and Selphie than himself – they, it seemed were looking forward to having to teach him how to not fall on his face. Which brought him back to the main issue at hand.

Why everyone else knew he was going to be stuffed in a dress before _he_ did.

And Leon still wasn't quite looking at him. Hadn't since he'd first emerged from behind the changing screen in the old fey women's cottage.

His shoulders were cold, ringed with scratchy, starched and frilly trim. Long sleeves covered his arms and knuckles, making him feel slightly restricted, but not any more than the tight fitted waist and awkward padding bound close against his chest. It wasn't much, but enough to make the area feel uncomfortably warm in comparison. It was a little difficult to breath, on the whole.

There was a thick red satin ribbon tied off center at his neck, partly to obscure his neck, partly, he knew, because they wanted to put as many feminine touches on him as possible. There were a couple of touches he wanted to put on them too, but none of them would be described as feminine.

As for the skirts…they were made of layer upon layer of bunched taffeta overlaid with thick silk. It held its shape, yes, but it felt…wrong, open, _vulnerable_. He wouldn't be able to run very well in such a heavy garment.

They had even provided him with a blond wig with long curls hanging to his waist. Selphie was having fun with it. He'd have rather tied the hair back; split and braided it to stop the unfamiliar weight from resting against his neck. That, however, was dashed when Leon, in his rare moment of speech, commented on how long hair was more elegant, and how it was better to obscure his sharp angles.

Well, the girls had just run with that. He was forbidden from touching the hair under threat of very painful, unspeakable things involving Tifa's fist, Selphie's models or both.

And for some reason, they'd insisted on some ridiculously lacy and very uncomfortable lingerie. It 'completed the package'. Frankly, he didn't want them anywhere near his package, but they had stolen all his boxers when he wasn't looking, Leon's room was locked, and Vincent, it seemed, didn't wear any.

Which was vaguely disturbing in itself.

They hadn't trusted him with a handbag.

…

The moment the blond met his eyes across the room, Leon knew he was in a difficult spot. A _tight_ spot, or soon to be one - certainly by the end of the evening.

"You can't just tie a shoe lace in your hair and be on your way!" Selphie was playing with Cloud's long curls, arranging fistfuls in elaborate displays while the blond steeled his expression and closed his eyes.

He realized too late that he too should have shut his eyes, because there was something utterly fascinating in watching the play of light across varying exposures of skin. Exposed – now hidden. The subtle curve of a neck arching to the side in exasperation.

He'd touched that skin before. Moved against it in mock intimacy; tasted it momentarily in such acts.

Leon had been thinking about that off and on for some time now, more since spending time with Cid and his unfounded declarations and colourful language. He could still feel the weight of the man pressing up against his back, arm twisted at a painful angle, mind still reeling from the shock. There was something odd in that; that he would remember being thrown off guard far more vividly than the twisted mess in Aeris' domain, where hands and…

…and in the midst of his muddling through his thoughts, he realized that Tifa was asking him a question, watching him with a suspicious sparkle in her eyes.

It was something to do with Cloud's hair. Did he want Cloud's neck to be exposed to distract him? His bare shoulders open to be considered and fantasized and imagined elsewhere?...No. Better to be covered and away. Seeing a mass of long flowing hair was easier to ignore than the curve of his back.

Stop looking…stop looking - _stop_. He crossed his arms, leaning back against a wall as he pointedly stared at the floor. It was probably because he was in a dress. He looked so much like a woman, it wasn't that hard to forget. The glaring eyes he could _feel_ made it a little more difficult.

He hadn't had this sort of distraction with Tidus, or with _Tifa_, for that matter. In fact, he couldn't remember being this distracted since school, and _that_ had turned into a remarkably bad situation. At least he wasn't seeing anyone this time around.

"Why is it that _he_ gets to wear a uniform?" the blond grumbled, hands fisting in the ample skirts.

Tifa just rolled her eyes. "Because _he_ graduated top of his class from Balamb Academy, and they like to be elite sons of bitches. Now shut up and look pretty."

…

The Golden Saucer had started out as a small racetrack on the outskirts of the city. At the time, it had boasted a grand total of sixteen chocobos competing in two different weekly races for the excitement of its few loyal patrons who stopped by for drinks after long shifts at work.

That was long before Luxord won the deed in a poker hand late one Saturday evening. Or perhaps early Sunday morning, Axel never could remember.

It had since undergone a rather large transformation, every few months a new addition appeared overnight until it was a sprawling wonderland, each layer perched precariously upon the other like a stack of cups at a mad hatter's tea party.

The racetrack had suddenly become a more than a simple dash to the finish. It now wound around and through the building visible from every floor, surrounded in elaborate decorations (and sometimes live animals) meant as much to entertain and delight spectators as distract potential jockeys unfamiliar with the track. Luxord, while he enjoyed a good gamble, when it came to business matters left nothing to chance.

He had turned a humble establishment into an amusement complex designed specifically to enable the fastest means to part a person from their wallet. He had wanted to call it Luxordland - Luxord World, even – but he had been talked down from that idea rather early on by one Zexion. He had worked out a deal that the blond Demyx would be willing to provide one free performance every third Friday of the month on the stadium stage on the seventh floor - but only if he wasn't playing in something named after Luxord or a land mass. It didn't stop the rest of them from still calling it Luxord World behind his back.

Somewhere along the line he'd also picked up a few mascots that ran the space shooter game on the third. Axel rather thought they were meant to be chipmunks.

After the first week of opening the hotel on the south side, he had fully believed that Luxord would regret permitting Larxene design rights, but at the time he had little choice and she had threatened disembowelment with a garden hose if Luxord broke their arrangement. Since he knew her better than to disregard her threats, Larxene had happily gone on her way and created the horrendously chintzy Haunted Mansion Hotel. Fortunately, ghosts and ghouls and iron maidens happened to turn the Haunted Mansion into one of the highest grossing accommodations on the continent.

But Axel wasn't thinking of how financially successful Luxord's establishment was when he finally caught sight of a short blond teen skulking around the overly bright and colourful entrance way – nor was he thinking of Demyx upstairs preparing for his concert or the unfortunate man mucking out the chocobo stalls in the basement. That thing in his chest that he'd nearly forgotten about had started pounding, and he was still convincing himself that he wasn't hallucinating. He honestly hadn't fully trusted that the boy would show up at all, and frankly he was a little worried about how relieved he was that Roxas did.

He wasn't going to deny the fact that if he were to give into his baser urges, he would make a complete fool of himself- a process that would no doubt embarrass not only himself and Roxas but quite possibly the small family of four next to him giggling over the small plush chipmunks in their hands as well. So rather than rush over, likely trip, cause a calamity and risk Roxas Never Speaking to Him Again, Axel crossed his arms (mostly to hold himself in place as much as to strike a casual appearance) and waited until he couldn't wait any longer.

At that point, he hurled a wadded up flyer at the back of his head, silently cheering at his impeccable aim. The look he was rewarded with was priceless. To his shock, despite the angry glare the kid actually went to the trouble to swipe up the ball of paper before storming over, clutching it tightly in one fist.

"You couldn't just walk over and say hello like a normal person?" Roxas fumed.

"Didn't make you any friendlier last time, now did it?" he shot back.

"Last time you pulled out a couple of cheesy pick-up lines and tried to fill me with liquor."

"Yeah, well...Scrooge's new skateboard simulator is opening in exactly seventeen minutes in the arcade which means we don't have time for a Q and A." Axel crossed his arms triumphantly and smirked. "Thanks to my fabulous connections, we've got the first run."

"When are you going to give me what I came for?" the boy asked accusingly, though it was clear that his mind was already centred somewhere around the fifth floor.

"All in good time, buddy. You can't rush a good thing – and really, we're good together so let's make this last."

...

He could no longer remember the man's true name. The _world_ couldn't remember his name. It had disappeared sometime in his youth, never to return.

Leon doubted even the man's wife ever knew it.

He had once been a vicious businessman, with little to no regard for morals or ethics. Still was, in some ways. In his long reign, he had managed to accumulate an empire, a fortune and an unforgiving reputation. He was known now only as 'the Beast'.

How he ended up with a spouse like Belle was beyond Leon, though he heard it had something to do with her father, blackmail and a local upstart from her hometown.

He didn't like guests. His estate was his domain, and his alone. In fact, until just recently he had made ample use of his private rights to prosecute without trial all trespassers. This was the first time he had opened his doors in ten years.

The Beast was suspicious and paranoid by nature, and trying to pass off Cloud as a woman, regardless of how alluring he seemed in a dress, was…a dangerous business. Thankfully they would only be in his company for a short while, and during that time he could keep Cloud close at hand, and in the background. He was only a placeholder, after all.

This was the plan, these were the instructions, and this was how it was meant to be.

So it came as some surprise, unpleasant and cold, to discover a slight change to said plans.

A stout, brown-haired servant was bowing and professing his services and that of the rest of the house staff, and a tall, elegant-speaking flatterer was kissing Cloud's hand, and wrist, and forearm – Leon had cleared his throat at this, frowning disapprovingly as he pulled the blond tightly to his side – as this was happening, his mind latched on the words the fat man was trailing on about.

"_Your room has been prepared for this evening,"_

Cloud wasn't paying attention. His eyes were wandering across the ornate detailing of the massive entrance hall, lingering at the top of each stairwell that led to the East and West Wings as though something fascinating might lie there. He was even ignoring the proximity Leon was still keeping, and the arm wrapped protectively around his waist. That worried him a little.

The blond pulled away just far enough to give a perfect curtsy to the man who had been kissing his skin just moments before, saying in a soft voice a few octaves higher than his own that, yes, he'd be delighted if the man –Lumière – would escort them to the main hall, and that he was _ever_ so excited to be introduced to the others.

Good, he was performing well.

Lumière offered an arm to him, and Cloud giggled. _Giggled._ Leon was disturbed. The blond didn't take the arm though, he was shaking his head in a perfectly amiable disapproval now, and Leon found himself the recipient of an expectant look. Before it even registered, he held out his own hand and was leading a princess to a ball.

Strife was too good at this.

…

The lanky servant led them to a large set of doors directly across from the entrance hall, giving the pair no chance to snoop into private rooms, should either man have been inclined.

As the grand doors opened, Leon felt a little pleased when he felt Cloud recoiling slightly at the onslaught of light and laughter that came with it, pressing closer against his side. A feeling he immediately pushed to the back of his mind, unwilling to consider the meaning of the petty triumph he experienced in Cloud's discomfort.

"Madames et monsieurs, may I present our special guest this evening Monsieur Loire and his ever beautiful companion, the lovely Cloud." There was a small applause as the man bowed, and Leon found that they had been separated as the blonde was swept away by a group of chattering girls. No less than four of Triton's other six daughters flitted around him and Leon felt his stomach clench briefly for the other man before his attention was stolen by a firm hand on his shoulder.

Turning, he was met with a smiling face and a rock glass of scotch.

"Charming, wasn't it?" Leon hazarded a guess as he accepted the drink. It was hard to tell these men apart without their female counterparts he found, but two of them at least were Charmings so it was as good a guess as he was going to get.

"You have a good memory."The man chuckled good-naturedly, and Leon mentally rolled his eyes. "It's good to see you hitting the circuit again."

"Everyone loves a good party." He heard himself force out.

There was a hearty slap on his back and a grinning tanned face appeared at his side. "Good choice of parties; Jasmine tells me Belle has a whopper of a night planned. Is it true that the Disney Darlings are taking the stage?"

Charming laughed, and Leon found himself anxious to find Cloud again if only to save him from having to exchange further conversation with these men.

"The girls have been haranguing us for months to have duets like the old days -- Ah, that's my cue." Charming gave the two men a small bow. "Belle's convinced the other Darlings to start off the night, and I fear you will have to put up with Cinderella and I for the first dance."

"Aurora looks like she's getting ready too."Aladdin noted with a grin. "I should be finding Jasmine before their song starts - was it Cloud?"

Leon gave a start, turning back to the tanned man. "What?"

"The beautiful woman you brought with you. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes? She looks like she gets on well with Snow and Aurora." He clapped Leon on the shoulder. "We'll have to have you two over sometime. Now, however, I must see to my lady."

He nodded to Aladdin as the man departed and found himself searching out the blond among the women.

It was then that he saw Rinoa across the dance floor, gesturing towards Cloud in the arms of a man with long dark hair and an easy smile. He wasn't sure at what point he himself had begun to scowl.

Before he knew it, he found himself gripping the blonds' forearm, staring the man down as the first chords of familiar music began echoing through the hall.

"I believe it is customary at these occasions for the man who brought a lady to have her first dance." he said in a low tone, unable to stop the steel that lined his words. He honestly didn't want to dance - had never enjoyed such things, and both Rinoa and her date knew it. But damned if that man didn't make him feel possessive all the same.

Laguna had a small smile on his face that did nothing to ease the irritation Leon felt, as though the older man knew something he was missing. "I wouldn't dream of stealing such a special moment. Please, the first dance is yours. Miss Heartily?"

Cloud was staring at him as the dark-haired man led a smiling Rinoa onto the dance floor, arm around her waist and laughter on their lips.

"If I was as delicate as the women here, you'd have given me a bruise, _honey_."

"Don't even start." He dragged the other man after him as they entered the fray, pulling him close and sliding Cloud's hands into the correct spots.

"_So Time is Love_."

"What?" His unwarranted frustration at that man was fading as he tried to concentrate on nothing but not stumbling in half-remembered steps. The last thing he needed was a repeat of the last time he had danced.

"The song." For some reason it surprised him that Cloud knew the duet, which was ridiculous - it had been one of the most popular love songs released by Charming Studios. It helped a great deal that it had come out during a massive scandal involving some tripe about _true_ love.

It _was_ calming though.

To think that he could feel calm while dancing - his father, ex-girlfriend and possible new sibling dancing somewhere in his peripheries - with an explosive blond stuffed in purple taffetta. He realized he was smiling, and he found that he didn't mind.

The look on Cloud's face when he noticed - and then quickly focused on something over his right shoulder - even brought out a small chuckle.

If this was any indication, the rest of the night was going to kill him.

...

"You said you were worried about your son."

Laguna was silent for a moment, enjoying the sense of ease from a night away from work. "Hm? He's more mature than his old man, what have I to be worried of?"

The beautiful girl in his arms laughed, and the sight made him smile, twirling her in circles around the other dancers.

"You're right. Besides," she gave him a wink that he knew by now meant she had been getting into trouble, "I think he's finally found what he's been needing."

He caught sight of Squall's uniform through the sea of bodies and nearly missed his next step. "Is he..."

"Told you so."

His son was smiling. He couldn't remember the last time he had see that - in fact he was quite certain he had never seen it. The sight was remarkable. It had to be the woman in his arms that was responsible for such a miracle, and damned if he was going to let the boy behave as he had with the Lockhart girl."...I have an idea."

"Squall's not going to like it, is he." she said as she leaned closer conspiratorially.

He gave her a wide grin before kissing her swiftly as the first chords of _Once Upon a Dream_ filled the air. "I'm going to need your help."


End file.
